


Empire State of Mind

by transpeterp



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Bi!Peter, Dad!Tony Stark, How Do I Tag, Kinda, MJ is a BAMF, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, New York City, Peter is a Little Shit, Peter is having a gay panic, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Vacation, and harley, bein little shits, gay!harley, harley is on vacation, ned is a cinnamon roll who must be protected, our boys out on the town, peter is an obligated tour guide, teeth rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2020-05-16 05:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19311559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transpeterp/pseuds/transpeterp
Summary: Peter Parker. Tired teenager. Stressed student. Part-time superhero. And now, apparently, part-time tour guide.What better way is there to spend the first week of summer, besides being an obligated companion to a boy he had never met before having to spend five days straight with?At least he didn't have to pay for anything, though. Perks of having a billionaire looking over your shoulder even from thousands of miles away.orthe one where peter and harley spend a whole week together exploring new york after meeting each other for the first time because tony is dealing with the latest world-threatening crisis halfway across the globe.





	1. day one

Peter was just getting home from school, his last day of junior year, when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Pulling it out, he was happy to see a “Tony Stark” across the screen, firstly because he had the honor to say Tony Stark called him on a semi-normal basis, and secondly because he had the Spidey suit for repairs and calling meant hopefully a fixed suit, which meant starting his summer the way he wanted—stopping generic bad guys dressed head to toe in spandex while swinging from textile strings. Him being head to toe in spandex, not the generic bad guys. He did stop that one guy in one of those full body morph suits a month ago, though. That was an interesting experience.

“Hey, Mr. Stark!” Peter chirped, setting his phone on speaker and letting it clatter to the counter since May wasn’t home and he was ravenous and holding a phone to his ear meant searching for food with one hand, and that was time consuming (time he could spend eating).

“Hey, kid. How was school? Finals all go alright?” Tony’s voice sounded crackly through the speaker, which was odd because of the state-of-the-art StarkPhone they both possessed. Usually calls sounded crystal clear.

“Yeah, I’ve aced all the ones I’ve gotten back. Where are you, your voice seems crackly.” Maybe it was an invasion of privacy, but they were mostly at the point Peter didn’t think too hard of talking to Tony like a normal person. Well, maybe usually he did overthink everything but he was too busy digging through his fridge to find his protein bars Tony specially engineered for him to help his exceedingly huge appetite.

“Uh, on a QuinJet. Avengers just got called into a special mission, and it’s gonna take a...few days.”

“A few days?” Peter wasn’t offended by Tony not bringing him along like he had the last few missions, just a little sad. Tony always tried to keep Peter out of missions taking more than a day. Safety reasons, he insists, but Peter knew it was safety for his own mind more than safety for Peter. The guy seemed to stress out a lot when Peter was in high-stakes fights, which... well, Peter understood. It was an unspoken thing, but acknowledged and accepted by both of them. “Is everything alright? Is this world ending, aliens destroying New York big?”

“No, but still not... ideal. But nothing to worry your anxious head about. I, uh, it was just incredibly sudden and... well I need your help with something.” To untrained ears, Tony would sound like his completely normal, confident, cocky self, but Peter could hear the bits of stress in his voice. He knew Mr. Stark had something important this week (“A surprise” he had said when Peter asked why they were deep cleaning the lab a few days before), but now he assumed that whatever the surprise was would wait.

Finally finding the protein bar, he took a huge bite and closed the fridge. “Sure. What do you need?”

—

An hour long commute later, after eating two protein bars and a banana, Peter was standing outside an extremely fancy hotel in Manhattan, only a few blocks from Times Square. Of course he had been to Times Square, probably walked past this specific hotel a hundred times, but it was so fancy, so extravagant, he never thought he would be about to enter it.

His phone chimed, and he pulled it out of the pocket of his ratty, old jeans. God, he should’ve changed into something nicer than this old t-shirt and stained jeans. Or at least put on his nice pair of converse, not the ones that look as if he had just run through a pile of shit (and probably smelled like it).

Tony Stark: Room 1408. I told him you are coming. Take him somewhere nice.

Peter scoffed at his phone, and took a deep breath, pushing the door open and walking into the hotel, which was even more daunting inside than out. He pretended to know where he was going, and went quickly to the elevator, acting as if he belonged (he didn’t). He felt like the kid in Home Alone when he comes to New York and runs into Donald Trump. Knowing Tony it was probably the same hotel as that. He sent off a response to Tony.

Peter Parker: you are acting like this is a date  
Peter Parker: i don’t even know the dude

The elevator chimed, and he got in along with a tall man in a suit who looked at Peter like he was a subway rat, and tentatively pressed floor 14. The man pressed 15, and stared straight ahead with a grimace as the doors closed, as if being in the same vicinity as this boy in less-than-perfect clothes was a huge struggle for him. He was the kind of man who scoffed when Peter held up his all-access pass to security at Stark Tower that was attached to an Iron Man lanyard, and who looked as if their entire world was ruined when Tony greeted him with a smile and clap on the back.

The elevator moved silently, quickly, and Peter felt extremely anxious. Not for the fancy building, but because this was another kid like him. Not like Spider-Man, but a kid whom Tony seemingly pulled under his wing.

The thing was, Peter had never met Harley Keener before. Tony had talked about him, sure, and he’s seen pictures, clips of videos of some of his visits with Tony, but never actually met him. Peter knew basic information about him— he was gonna be a freshman at MIT, starting in only a few months, he was from “Shit Hill” Tennessee (Tony’s words), he only had one parent (Peter could relate), and he was coming to visit for a week, as he had never been to New York. Tony said he was going to give the “best tourist look at the great city” which meant the burden is falling on Peter. God.

The hallway was quiet and the carpet was extremely lush, and wow he really has never been in a hotel this nice. The hotel in Germany was not this nice, not this...rich.

1408 stood in front of him like a daunting fate. The door itself felt daunting. Dark wood, gold doorknob. Ugh.

Peter took a deep breath, steadying himself, and knocked three times.

And instantly heard a crashing sound and a voice say “Shit! Coming!”. Peter clasped his hands together, then looked down at them awkwardly. Was this weird looking? God, he already looked like a complete slob, was the clasped hands fucking weird and he looked insane? He stuck his hands in his jean pockets. Nope now he looked like a dick. Crossed arms. Even more dickish.

The door swung open as Peter’s arms dropped to his sides. His first thought was “tall”, which... well, was true. He was looking at someone who stood a solid foot above him, which meant he stood a foot above Tony, too, which was a hilarious image to Peter.

“Uh, hi.” Uh, hi? God, Peter loathed himself and his lack of proper conversational skills. Why was he such an awkward person?

“Hey! You must be Peter!” The guy flashed a blinding smile, and Peter minutely noticed the southern accent, the slight difference in his words. It almost took him off guard because the back of his mind, the part that had been running his body during finals season, thought southern accents were just something the internet liked to make fun of, not actually real. “Tony literally just called, said you were coming. It’s so great to meet you, I’m Harley!”

Peter stuck a hand out awkwardly, and Harley shook it politely. What a southern gentleman.

“It’s, uh, great to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Peter said, dropping his hand again.

“Come in,” Harley said, opening the door for Peter. The hotel room was...also extremely rich looking. Harley shut the door behind them. “Yeah, same. Gotta say, when Tony first told me that he was working with a teenage intern, I was a bit offended, kinda felt like I was being replaced.”

Peter chuckled, following him as he sat on the edge of a perfectly made bed. There was a black suitcase in the corner of the room, and a pair of timbs thrown next to them, and of course he had timbs, wow Peter really wish he put on his nice shoes.

“Yeah, uh, there’s no way I would replace you. T-uh, Mr. Stark talks about you a lot. He, uh, told me about how you helped with the suit? That’s so cool. Seriously.”

“Oh,” Harley chuckled looking down at his lap. “Yeah, that, uh, yeah. I was, like eleven. It was... nothing.”

Peter sat next to him, looking down at their feet. Harley had pink dinosaur socks on, one with a hole in it, with a single toe sticking out, that had blue nail polish on it. Huh. “Mr. Stark doesn’t think so. He says that you saved him.”

Harley just smiled a bit wider.

—

“Okay, here’s good.”

Harley followed Peter into the small place labeled “Mario’s Pizzaria” in red cursive, and they were both hit with the smell of tomato and burnt pizza crust.

“You been here before?” Harley asked, and Peter walked up to the glass case, peering at all the pizza’s on display.

“Nah. Come pick.” Peter said, straightening up when a man stepped up to the register, waving for Peter to come up. “Hi. I will take a slice of cheese, and a water. Harley?”

“Uh, same.”

“Cheese and water?” The man had an Italian accent, and Harley nodded quickly, face flushing a bit. “Alright.”

Peter pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, handing over a credit card before Harley could even say anything. “Thanks.”

“Receipt?”

“Nope. Thanks.”

They moved to one of the green booths close to the counter, and Peter brushed away crumbs from the table.

“I can pay for my own stuff,” Harley said, sitting, too.

“Nope. Mr. Stark is paying.” Harley raised an eyebrow, and Peter held up the credit card, continuing. “He gave me this a while ago, for ‘emergencies’. When I talked to him today, he said he’s paying for everything, no questions, no arguments.”

Harley furrowed his brow, but before he could argue two paper plates with huge slices of cheese pizza, along with two cups of water, were placed in front of them with a grunt from the man.

“Thanks,” Peter said, instantly picking up his piece and biting in, burning his mouth. “Ouch! Shit!”

Harley seemingly lost his argument as he laughed. The piece tumbled out of Peter’s mouth, and he groaned, taking a big gulp from his water, grimacing at the pain on the roof of his mouth.

“Hot?” Harley asked, and Peter glared half heartedly. It didn’t really matter, which normal people would feel the burn for a few days after, Peter’s mouth would be fine in a few hours. Harley didn’t know that, though.

“Nah, I just randomly let food fall half chewn out of my mouth when with people I met half an hour ago.” Peter said, then cleared his throat, as if clearing the awkwardness away.

Harley laughed, sipping his water. “Chewn?”

“...Chewed?” Peter asked, his turn to furrow his brows.

“Chown.” Harley raised his eyebrows as if daring Peter to counter.

“Chowed.” Peter finalized. “Half chowed food.”

Harley laughed, and looked down at his pizza. “It looks good.”

“A New York staple. Greasy street pizza. Best we can offer.” Peter said, and Harley smiled down to it, picking it up and blowing on the end a little before taking a small bite, nodding as he chewed.

“Definitely good,” he said, smiling at Peter. “Tony probably wouldn’t take me to a place like this.”

Peter smiled, nodding, taking a smaller, less burning bite. “Probably not. With me you get the full New York experience, not Tony’s rich man one.”

Harley continued to smile and took another bite of pizza.

—

“I mean how hard would it be to just...add air conditioning?” Harley asked as they climbed the stairs from the subway station and onto a semi-busy New York street.

 

“I’ve been asking that for years,” Peter said, pulling Harley’s arm to step out of the way of the subway exit, pulling him in the direction they needed to go, eventually dropping his arm when he was sure Harley was keeping up with Peter’s New York pace.

“Tony would pay for it, probably,” Harley said, and Peter nodded.

“If we asked, maybe, but I don’t think he would understand. He wouldn’t know the last time he rode the subway.”

They walked the few blocks from the station to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and as they rounded the corner and it came into sight, Harley gawked at how many people were around.

“They just sit on the steps?” He asked, and Peter grabbed his arm again, as they hurried up the crowded steps and into the actual museum, which was much quieter and much more calm.

“Usually. It’s a sorta hang out spot, for people to rest or just like sit for a little bit.” The museum was cool around them, and Peter knew where to go in the main lobby, walking towards the little self-register booths to buy their tickets. They got two student tickets (paid by the Tony Stark credit card), and a map, and Peter let Harley explore to his hearts content.

When in the main statue part, Peter made sure to get really nice shots of the statue’s butts, and Harley chuckled when he caught onto it, watching Peter take the pictures.

“Wow, you really have a talent for that, don’t you.” Peter glanced up, confused, and Harley continued, “Taking photos. You are really good at it.”

“Yeah, I—”

No. Nope. Maybe don’t mention the fact that you run a famous Instagram photography account with a brand deal with Stark Industries itself to get the newest StarkPhones, usually before updates even open to the public, to allow for magnificent and truly breathtaking photos of the city.

Harley noticed the hesitation, and they slowly began walking to the next room. He looked down, and rubbed his neck awkwardly, before saying, “I’ve seen your other pictures, too. The ones on your account, uh, at aestheticny?”

Oh, Okay. So he knows. He just… knows.

“How’d…” Peter struggled to ask even a simple question and opted to finish with, “I’m, I mean, it… it is anonymous?”

It sounded more like a question than an answer, and Peter loathed himself.

“Yeah, well, I just… put two and two together. You have a StarkPhone not released to the public yet, the account apparently has a ‘deal’ to give the newest tech. The account is obviously a teenager, and Tony wouldn’t give unreleased tech to just anyone, only someone he is close with and knows. And he’s never mentioned any other teenagers before, and unless Happy or Miss Potts is somehow running the account and somehow passing off sounding like a teenager, I end with you.”

Peter let out a breath, and chuckled lightly at the funniness of the situation, mixed lightly with humorless self pity. Of course it was fucking obvious.

“Well, you caught me,” Peter chuckled smally. “That’s my secret.”

“The only one?” Harley asked jokingly, and before Peter could answer, the older boy was off, headed down a hall lined with artifacts from some place at some time, Peter wasn’t even paying attention, just watching him go with an anxious curl growing again in his stomach.

“Come on, I wanna see the Camp exhibit!”

Oh fuck.

 

\--

 

A quick walk, consisting of Harley lightly complaining his feet hurt, through Central Park, and they eventually made it to Times Square, sitting on the bleachers and looking out among the sea of people moving around the few blocks, both with awkward tourist movements and fluid New Yorkers pace and easiness. It was only eight at night, sun not even fully set, yet the lights were on fully, casting interesting shadows through the bright lights from the screens. Harley watched every billboard, watching it switch between different ads for things not even relating to anything he cared about, and Peter found it oddly soothing to see a tourist's look at the place. He always thought of Times Square as “the place to avoid on New Years”, not the center of the city, holding the true spirit of their metropolitan suburbia.

When Harley was distracted with watching a billboard dedicated to wishing a happy Pride from some company (which, since it was June, most of the billboards had something to do with Pride), Peter snapped a picture. A side angle, seeing the in-awe smile on Harley’s face, how his eyes reflected the light and looked so happy, hair a bit frizzy and sweaty, yet still nice looking.

“What’s your Instagram?” Peter asked suddenly, and Harley glanced up, cocking his head. Peter showed him his phone, and muttered, “I wanna tag you on aestheticny.”

Harley’s smile was beginning to become familiar to Peter, which was by far not the worst thing in the world.

“Uh, harlskeen.” Peter double checked as he typed, and posted after sorting out filters and perfect cropping. After posting, he clicked on the account, and followed Harley, then switched to his personal account and followed again.

“Peteyparkers?” Harley said after he got the notification that he was followed by Peter. “Petey?”

“Don’t you dare,” was all Peter said in return, but Harley was already smiling a shit-eating grin, and Peter knew he was gonna be stuck with it. Harley was like a mini, millennial Tony. And that was… well, it was kinda terrifying.

Harley started to say something, then yawned, loudly. Peter chuckled.

“Wanna turn in for the night? It’s getting…” Peter glanced at his phone and saw it was only nine, which was probably extremely early for Harley, but Peter had an hour commute home. “Sorta late, and I’m sure you’re tired from travelling today.”

Harley smiled softly, nodding. “Yeah, a little.”

The walk back to the hotel seemed long because both boys were tired, but it was still cool to see Harley’s somewhat scared face as they ran to cross a street before getting hit by a car, or look up in awe at the lit-up buildings they passed.

At the hotel doors, they stopped. “This was fun,” Harley said, smiling. “Uh, Tony said something about baseball tomorrow? I said I wanted to see a Mets game and he said he was gonna take me tomorrow, but if you don’t like baseball we definitely don’t have to, I think Tony bought tickets though, and—”

“Baseball is great. Here, put your number in, I will text you what time I will be by to pick you up for the game, and the only appropriate way to go to a game in the city is to ride the subway there.” Peter held out his phone, and Harley quickly put his contact in. Peter shot off a text, and Harley typed in Peter’s contact, setting it as “Petey Parker”, which made Peter groan.

“Cool,” He said awkwardly, and Peter was glad they both were a little awkward, not just him.

“I’ll text you,” Peter said, and Harley nodded. He looked like he almost went in for a hug, but settled for lightly punching Peter’s shoulder, and turning, disappearing into the hotel.

Peter stood there for a second, then began walking to the subway to take him back to Queens.

Not how he imagined the start of summer, but he will take what he can get at this point really. Better than almost bleeding out on a rooftop somewhere, huh? 


	2. day two

Peter woke up to the sound of an alarm, which just wasn’t right. School ended the day before. 

He slammed his hand down (softly slammed, because a real slam would break his phone—oh the joys of super strength) onto his screen silencing the song blaring out, and why did he set his ringer so loud? He had super hearing, he would hear at half the volume, probably less. 

His eyes hadn't even opened as he turned the alarm off, and his mind began to swim back to dreamland when he remembered suddenly—Harley, New York, baseball, nine. His eyes snapped open, and suddenly he was wide awake. 

It was eight in the morning, and the sun was weakly poking through the window. Outside, Peter could see overcast grey clouds coating the skies, and deflated a little at the possibility of rain at the game. 

He pulled on a pair of shorts, his single baseball jersey he owns that was previously Ben’s and had some random really old player from the nineties on the back, and went to get breakfast. 

“Look at you, all sporty!” May cooed from the kitchen table, and Peter smiled slightly, going straight for the coffee machine. He pulled his retainer out of his mouth (gross, spit), and set it on a napkin on the counter by the coffee machine. “You collapsed when you got home yesterday and didn’t tell me how it went.” 

“It was good. He’s nice.” Peter watched the coffee slowly drip into the cup, and sighed to himself. He was tired, but excited for the game. He had never been to a professional game before, or at least that he could remember. There was a picture in one of May’s albums of Peter as a baby, with his dad and uncle at a Yankees game, but that was the only game he’s been to, he thinks. He doesn’t know for sure, he’s never really asked. He was just glad Ben had a Mets jersey. 

“What’s his name, again?” May asked, standing up to put her breakfast in the sink. She was already wearing her work uniform, and as she brushed by him, the fabric of her scrubs itched Peter’s skin a little. 

“Harley. Keener. Harley Keener.” Peter continued to watch the coffee drip, drip, drip. This took forever. 

“Sounds nice. He’s from Tennessee, yeah?” 

“Yep. Accent and everything.” Finally the coffee was done, and Peter took it, taking a sip and burning his tongue. “God, shit.” 

That was the second time he has burnt his tongue in twenty four hours. Why was he such a dumbass all the time? 

“I gotta get going. Have a fun day today, okay? Be safe, don’t lose the country boy.” 

Peter smiled, holding an arm out for a hug. “I won’t.” 

“I will be home around four today, so if you guys are in the area, swing by, okay?” May hugged him, then stepped away, towards the door, before turning. “Don’t actually swing. That’s dangerous.” 

Peter nodded, blowing on his coffee. “Got it.” 

“Love you!” She called, and Peter mimicked, before she was gone out the door. 

 

—

 

The credit card was coming to good use, as they paid for the exceedingly ridiculous Starbucks price of two bagels and two coffees, and began the trek to the subway again. Harley was wearing a white t-shirt and shorts, along with a baseball hat. His hair was long enough to curl past the hat, by his ears. The height difference seemed much larger than the day before, and Peter tried not to slouch as he walked to avoid really looking small next to Harley. 

As they waited for the subway, Harley counted the rats scattered down on the track, racing across the tracks before trains came, and Peter watching him dorkily. He never knew anyone who wasn’t from New York, or wasn’t acquainted with the ways of the city, so watching Harley find joy in something Peter usually found disgusting and annoying was really cool to him. 

His phone buzzed from his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a text from Tony. Apparently this mission didn’t require radio silence. Or maybe it did and Tony didn’t follow protocol. That was usually true about a lot of things that Tony does. 

Tony Stark: How is it going? You guys getting along? You not nerding out all over him? 

“Here, lean in a little bit,” Peter said, and Harley looked over confused. “C’mon, we need to send a picture to Tony.” 

They took a dorky selfie, Peter smiling awkwardly and Harley flipping off the camera with a smirk on his face. Peter sent it off just as the train arrived, and they found seats in the corner. 

“How long is the ride?” Harley asked as the train began to move. Peter pulled headphones out of his bag, plugging them in and passing Harley an earbud. 

“About half an hour. Music or Netflix?” Peter asked, and Harley shrugged. “Music it is.” 

Peter pulled up his “commute” playlist, which was hyped up songs he always listened to on the subway. Harley seemingly lit up when Peter hit shuffle and the first song was “Bloom” by Troye Sivan. 

“Holy shit, I love him!” Harley said, and Peter chuckled, nodding. 

“Me too. He’s so good.” 

“My little sister introduced me to him a few years back, after his first album? She took me to his concert last year, it was so fun,” Harley said, bopping a little in his seat to the beat and smooth Australian singing. 

“Oh my god, lucky? I almost went to his concert here, but I had a decathlon thing that day so I couldn’t.” Peter’s phone chimed from a text notification. 

Tony Stark: dorks

“You go to a cool science school, right? That’s what Tony said,” Harley asked after a second. 

“Uh, yeah, it’s a science and technology school.” Peter didn’t really like talking about school, both because it’s stressful and he felt almost… inferior to Harley already, being the younger of Tony’s prodigies, and the second for him to quote unquote “adopt”. 

“Tony says you’re like, stupid smart. Smartest kid he knows apparently.” 

“He says you’re super smart. Talks about how proud he is that you are going to MIT,” Peter said softly, and Harley nodded slowly, seemingly sensing Peter’s awkwardness. 

They sat in silence the rest of the Troye song, and when the next song started playing, Harley burst out laughing, getting weird looks from some other people on the train. Peter’s face grew a tiny bit warmer, smiling sheepishly. 

“Cruisin’ for a Bruisin’?” He asked, still laughing. Peter bit his lip, shrugging a bit. “That’s so amazing. Didn’t take you for a big Teen Beach Movie fan.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Peter muttered, and Harley continued to laugh, quiet now, shoulders shaking a little as he grinned. Then, after his laughter calmed down, he started whispering the lyrics out loud, and Peter changed the song. 

“What? No! Change it back!” Harley whined when the opening beats for Lizzo’s Truth Hurts began. 

“No, you’re making fun of me. After everything I’ve done,” Peter said, and Harley smiled widely, beginning to sing Lizzo’s song. Peter sighed when another person turned to shoot them a look at how loud Harley was being, and shrunk into his seat a little. “God, I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t,” Harley said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms and smirking. 

Peter scolded his shoes, his good, cleaner pair of converse, and mumbled, “No I don’t.” 

 

\--

 

Peter expected mediocre seats. He isn’t sure why, but he expected at least second level, maybe a suite with other people at best, but not… this. 

They were in the second row, halfway down the first base line, behind the dugout of the Mets. Because of course. Peter could literally smell the dirt, and hear the coaches yelling. 

They stopped at concessions before sitting down, aware they were in the middle of a group of season-ticket holders, all older men who looked at them strangely as they sat down on the padded (padded!) seats. Peter was cradling a box of popcorn, season cup filled with Coke in front of him, and Harley was halfway through a plate of nachos, which Peter took a few from. He would probably need to get some more stuff throughout the game, thanks to his spider-shit body system. 

“These seats are fucking amazing,” Peter said, and Harley nodded along, mouth full of nachos. “I mean, I don’t really care about baseball, but this is really cool.” 

“You don’t like baseball?” Harley asked after swallowing. Peter shrugged. 

“I mean, I don’t really watch it. I’ve never tried to, though, so maybe I will become a baseball fanatic.” Peter scooped some popcorn in his mouth, and Harley smiled. 

“I’ll talk you through the plays,” He said, and Peter nodded, swallowing. 

“I’d appreciate it,” Peter smiled. The National Anthem began to play, and they both stood for that, then the game began and Peter was dragged into the all-American sport. 

 

\--

 

The game was fun, and actually interesting to Peter. Harley had to explain everything to Peter, or most everything, like why they were reviewing a play and what the hell a shortstop was, but Peter knew most of the basic rules, like strikes, fouls, walks, the positions (minus shortstop), so it worked out that Harley didn’t have to narrate the entire time. 

They didn’t want to be stuck in the huge traffic heading back in the direction of the city, so they stayed and relaxed in their seats, when Peter suggested they head to his apartment for a few hours, since it was only three, and they could head back into the city after dinner. 

It took a while to get to his house, and when they did they both sighed in relief at the blast of air conditioning. May wasn’t home yet, so they both collapsed on the couch and Peter turned on Netflix. 

“What do you want to watch?” 

“You have Great British Bake Off on your watch list?” Harley asked, smirking at Peter, making him once again scold. 

“It’s a good show!” Peter fought, and Harley continued to smirk. “For that, we are watching it.” 

Even though Peter started playing it as a joke to get Harley to stop smirking, but he actually seemed enthralled as the show began to play, and Peter genuinely liked the show, so they kept it on. Peter scrolled through his Instagram for a little bit, checking on the post from the night before of Harley. A few comments popped up asking why there was a guy from Tennessee on the Instagram, but mostly the usual “omg such a good pic” comments. 

He noticed he had a few missed texts from during the game, and he was just proud that he wasn’t on his phone during the game and actually watched. With such good seats it would’ve been a shame not to, really. He clicked on the group chat of him, MJ, and Ned, which is where a majority of the missed texts were from. 

MJ: do u think summer decathlon work would be too much

Ned Leeds: YES   
Ned Leeds: DONT DO THAT TO ME PLS  
Ned Leeds: I HAVE SIX CLASSES WITH SUMMER WORK ALREADY I DONT NEED MORE WORK TO DO  
Ned Leeds: PLUS MY LIFE THREATENING STRESSFUL JOB

MJ: alright alright i wont jesus  
MJ: babysitting doesnt count as a stressful job 

Ned Leeds: it does when you babysit for the mcclaires  
Ned Leeds: their kids are the spawns of satan

MJ: why dont u just stop working for them then 

Ned Leeds: u kidding? they are loaded they pay me so much my mom would kill me if i quit

Peter chuckled, and Harley looked over, questioning. “Sorry, my best friend is being a dork. As per usual.” 

Harley nodded nonchalantly, and continued staring at the TV. “Are they also a genius.” 

“Who, Ned?” 

“Your best friend,” Harley confirmed, and Peter nodded. 

“He’s really smart. He doesn’t believe he is, but he is. Decathlon, all AP classes, the whole lot. He needs to believe in himself more.” 

“Sounds like I was starting senior year,” Harley said, turning a bit and glancing at Peter for a second. 

“You think you aren’t smart?” Peter asked incredulously, and Harley looked mock shocked. 

“Absolutely not, I am a fucking genius.” He grinned, and Peter elbowed him half heartedly. “No, I… I had a lot of confidence issues, especially in school. Not, like, school work-wise. I’ve always kinda known I was pretty smart. I mean, that’s what happens after you help rebuild an Iron Man suit when you are eleven.” 

Peter chuckled a little, now fully looking at Harley and not the show. He had his legs tucked under him, and suddenly felt extremely… domestic. Like when him and Ned had sleepovers and just sat on the couch and talked to each other for hours. 

“But I was bullied pretty hard for a lot of school. When my dad left… well, Rose Hill’s a small town. Word spread quickly. A lotta kids always called me a ‘mama’s boy’, and worse, just because I was raised by a woman only.” 

“I get that,” Peter said softly, and Harley bit his lip. “I mean, I was bullied, still am teased a bit, for my parents being… gone. But now it’s just because everyone is used to picking on me.” 

Harley’s face had morphed from the careful closed off look he donned as he talked about being bullied to a firm, almost angry look. “They still bully you?” 

Peter shrugged, turning back to the TV. He wasn’t really used to people not knowing that he was constantly teased by Flash and others. Ned and MJ just accepted it as apart of Peter by now, and though they often grumbled about it and told Peter to actually do something about it, nothing ever happened with it. May knew and was angry about it, but Peter refused to let her go to the principal about it. Even Tony knew, though he never actually brought it up with Peter. 

“I mean, it isn’t really bullying. No, like, shoving me into lockers or anything. Just…” Peter sighed. “They call me names sometimes, like Penis Parker, that’s a favorite of a lot of them, and they make fun of me for the internship. With Mr. Stark, I mean. They don’t really… believe that it’s real? I dunno.” 

Harley stared for a bit longer, then turned back to the TV, crossing his arms. Peter could see him still scolding in his peripheral. “That’s bullshit. Why would they just pick you to target?” 

Peter smiled to himself a bit. “I used to be the tiniest, skinniest little nerd ever. Honest, I was extremely skinny, no muscle on any bones whatsoever, and I had these thick black glasses, and I was awkward, even more awkward than now, that is, and… I dunno. Pick on the skinny kid who can’t fight back I guess.” 

Harley looked as if he was about to make an argument, one Peter had heard time and time again talking to Ned, but was cut off by the sound of the front door opening. 

“You left the door unlocked,” May said, and Harley turned to look at her awkwardly. Peter smiled, glad to escape the argument of his being picked on with someone he met less than 24 hours before, despite how easy it was to talk to him already. “A murderer could just walk in, and murder you.” 

“That’s just the New York experience,” Peter said. “Harley deserves to really understand the city, huh?” 

May looked up finally, seeing Harley sitting next to him awkwardly, and she covered the surprised look of someone else, and smiled widely. 

“You must be Harley!” She dropped her bag to the floor and made her way towards the couch. Peter knew what was coming, but Harley didn’t seem to, just smiling back. “It’s so great to meet you!” 

“Yes, ma’am, you too,” Harley said, and held a hand out for a shake, when May grabbed it, pulling him up and into a tight hug which he tensed through, before slightly relaxing right before she let go. 

“No need to call me ma’am. I don’t think I am that fancy,” She said, letting Harley sit back down a bit awkwardly. She passed by Peter, resting her hand on his head for a moment, which he temporarily lent into. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Harley said, and May paused shooting a look his way, as if she was analyzing him slightly, before smiling a bit. 

“Have you boys eaten in a while?” She opted for, walking over to the kitchen. Peter smiled to Harley, who was blushing a bit from the impromptu hug. 

“We ate at the game,” Peter said, and May turned, giving him a knowing look. 

“What time was that?” She asked, already going towards the pantry to fish out some kind of snack food for them. 

“Uh…” Peter looked at Harley. “One thirtyish?” 

May hummed, pulling out a half eaten bag of chips out of the pantry. “Here.” 

After she gave over the bag of potato chips, she grabbed her own bag as her phone ring. 

“We are gonna go somewhere for dinner in the city, alright?” Peter said as she answered, and she threw him a thumbs up before disappearing in the direction of her room. 

 

\--

 

After a quick dinner at a semi-fancy Italian restaurant, Peter realized something as they emerged back onto the street, Tony’s credit card having been used generously to feed the two of them. 

“We are only, like, four blocks from Rockefeller! It’s not that interesting at not-Christmas time, but still. What kinda tour guide would I be?” Peter said, and Harley gestured for him to lead the way. 

They stopped at a Starbucks on the way, and while they were leaning against a table waiting for their drinks, Peter had an epiphany. He wasn’t even relatively nervous around Harley. At all. When they first met, sure, he was awkward and bumbly, but since then, even in only a day and a half, he was talking with Harley like he did with Ned or MJ. He didn’t stutter, “um” wasn’t every other word out of his mouth, and he was just open with him. 

Weird. 

Drinks in hand, they continued the slow walk. Peter didn’t come to the city during the night all that much, except when he was swinging around on patrol, so it was really nice for him, too. 

Immediately ruined by his phone blaring in his pocket. He always kept it on vibrate, so it was weird to actually hear his ringtone (the Mii song). Harley chuckled, watching Peter pull it out and stare at the contact. 

“Oh!” Peter quickly glanced around, then pulled Harley to the side, into some random hotel lobby. “Hi!” 

“Hey kid,” The voice was still a small bit staticy, but overall great reception, which was an unsaid blessing Peter really appreciated. 

“Hey. You’re on speaker. Harley’s here.” 

“Hey old man,” Harley said, smiling to Peter, who smiled back. 

“Hi! How you liking New York so far? Peter being a great tour guide?” 

Harley smirked. “He’s great. A really good tour guide.” 

“How’s the trip going?” Peter asked, not sure if Harley was like… supposed to know if it was a mission. Peter probably wasn’t supposed to know, Tony just told him. Who knows. 

“Stressful. Boring. You would hate it if you were here.” Tony said, and there was a sound in the background, suspiciously like an alarm. “Uh…” 

“Gotta go?” Harley prompted, and Peter smiled, nudging him. He smiled back again, which no matter how many times he did, Peter really liked his smile. 

“Yeah. I will call you two back soon, okay? Or just see you soon. One or the other.” 

“Bye Tony. Be safe,” Peter said, and Harley mimicked before Tony hung up. 

 

\--

 

Peter walked up to the hotel room with Harley after they realized it was decently early. 

“This place has free movies, wanna watch one?” Harley kicked off his shoes, flopping onto the bed, which made a hilarious poofing sound as he sunk into the puffy comforter that had been perfectly placed on the bed. It ruined the perfect work the housekeepers did, but Peter looked at how soft it looked, and began kicking his own shoes off to jump next to Harley. 

“Free movies? What kinda pompous rich place is this? God,” Peter said, and heard Harley chuckle as he faced down in the bed. Peter jumped next to him unexpectedly, which made Harley yelp as he rolled and pressed into Peter’s side. He turned his head, looking at Peter’s face-down head. 

“What movie should we watch. What guilty pleasure movie is your favorite?” Harley asked, waiting for a second before sitting up and searching for where the remote was put. 

“Uh…” Peter sat up, too, and thought for a minute. “Romcoms? Those are my guilty pleasures usually.” 

Harley found the remote, and turned the TV on, moving to sit with his back pressed against the headboard, Peter following suit. They sat in silence as Harley pulled the movie list up, scrolling through the names until one stood out. 

“Legally Blonde!” They both exclaimed when the name popped up, then smiled. Harley clicked it. 

“You have good taste, Parker,” Harley said as the movie loaded, and Peter smiled, sinking down a little, kicking the covers back so he could stick his legs under, which were cold in the freezing hotel room. 

“You too, Keener.” 

They stayed like that for the entire movie. There were moments of small giggles when one of them could quote a line, and hard, tear-rolling laughter when they made an offhand comment that really made the other cackle until they couldn’t breathe. Eventually, they both were sitting under the covers, feet touching just barely, and they watched Reece Witherspoon dominate Harvard Law. 

Once the credits rolled, Harley stretched, and checked his phone. “Woah, it’s only ten.” 

Peter should probably be heading back home. 

“Do you just want to crash? It’s a pretty long ride back to Queens, and we still have Legally Blonde 2, Red White and Blonde to watch.” Harley stood, going over to the little desk and picking up a book, opening it to read something. 

Peter thought about it for a second, or at least pretended to. Like it was much of a decision. 

“I will only stay if you promise we never have to watch Legally Blonde 2, like, ever.” 

“What?” Harley feigned surprise. “You don’t want to see a movie based on gay dogs?” 

Peter smiled softly. “The movie wasn’t based on gay dogs, that was a subplot. But, no, I do not. Definitely not.” 

Harley smiled, tossing the book to Peter in bed. “Order some food. Lots of food. Tony is paying, and since according to you this entire trip is being paid for by the little billionaire, then we might as well go wild, right?” 

Peter began to flip through the book to find page after page of a 24 hour room service menu. “Oh, yes.” 

“Order me some fries, then anything else that sounds remotely good to you. I’m gonna take a shower, I can still feel the sweat from the game on me.” Harley grabbed something out of the open suitcase, which Peter assumed was his pajamas. God, he was going to see Harley in pajamas. 

And holy shit. When did he develop a crush on Harley. 

“Got it,” Peter said, busying himself to not watch Harley search through his suitcase and instead looking through the menu. 

He tried not to worry over his sudden and quick realization, and instead spent his time ordering enough food to feed a very tiny army. Or two teenage boys, one of which had an extremely fast metabolism. 

About ten minutes later, Harley emerged from the shower, drying his hair with a towel, wearing a black sweatshirt and pajama bottoms. 

“Order enough food?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. Edge of his bed. The one Peter was still sitting in, not moving a lot to not have to sacrifice the warmth he has found. They’ve known each other just over 24 hours. And yet here Peter was just… sitting in his bed. Warm in his bed. Peter was close to just… screaming. 

“I could eat a truck at any time of the day, Harley. Of course I ordered enough. I can’t believe you would doubt me.” 

Apparently Peter became snarky and sarcastic when he had an extremely quick, extremely insane crush on a guy who lived in Tennessee. 

Harley smiled, throwing the towel in the direction of the bathroom scooting backwards to get under the covers again, grabbing the remote. 

“What movie is next?” Harley asked, scrolling again. 

“Whatever you want is fine,” Peter said, accepting his fate to living the rest of this trip with the weight in his stomach of a crush on the curly haired boy. 

Harley scrolled for a little bit, before saying, “Star Wars?” 

Peter groaned internally, heart feeling like the Grinch’s when it grew five sizes and caused the little meter to explode. 

“Star Wars is perfect,” he said instead, smiling as convincingly as possible to the other boy, internally screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really wanted to finish this whole thing by far from home, but even with unedited chapters that's not gonna happen ,, i COULD take time to edit now instead of rushing and instead make it perfect, but obviously that's ... not gonna happen.


	3. day three

Peter woke up smelling coconut. Not actual coconut, but an artificial coconut that Peter still really liked. His eyes pulled open softly, slowly, and he blinked at the bright light streaming in through the window. He could only see the light from the window behind him as it bounced off the golden brown-blonde hair in front of his face. That must be what was smelling of coconut. 

That was what was smelling of coconut. Harley must use coconut smelling shampoo. 

Oh shit. 

Peter froze, not even breathing properly. He was currently cuddled against Harley’s side under the fluffy comforter. Everything smelled vaguely of the clean hotel smell mixed with coconut and a generic Harley smell, one Peter already felt like he could pick out of anything it seemed, but maybe that was him literally being engulfed in the smell currently. 

At one point the night before, between the second movie they watched (Mean Girls) and the third (Heathers), Harley gave Peter some of his pajamas to change into since it was uncomfortable to sleep in the jeans he had on. May called him then, at around one, asking where the hell he was as she just woke up from falling asleep on the couch and he wasn’t there. Peter explained he was staying at the hotel, and May just laughed and said something along the lines of being safe, which Peter wasn’t sure she meant. The double meaning of “being safe” and his recent and seemingly huge realization of a mild crush on the occupant of said hotel he was staying in… well, it left Peter pink in the face and stuttering a goodbye before hanging up on May and going back to the movie, and subsequently Harley’s sweet, kind smile that also made Peter blush. 

Peter wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do here. He wasn’t sure how he got here. He vaguely remembered the start of Heathers, but not anything past twenty minutes. He must’ve fallen asleep, but he definitely fell asleep with only their feet touching, Harley’s ankle locked with his. How they ended up like this? God, he had no idea. 

Harley was gonna hate him. Shit. 

Peter tried to move just the smallest bit, but found it difficult to free himself without waking Harley up, which he really didn’t want to do in fear of really embarrassing himself. And Harley was still asleep, his heartbeat was slow, steady, calming. Peter normally could feel people’s heartbeats, but this was less of his spider sense, and more of the fact that they were literally pressed against each other, each wrapped around the other in the bed. Peter couldn’t pick up on any senses besides the heartbeat, the smell of coconut, and the glow of golden hair. And before he really knew it, he fell asleep listening to the soft thump of the other boy’s heart, mind barely registering the thought that it wasn’t good that Peter was so intrigued, so connected, to this boy. 

 

\--

 

Peter needed to stop his feelings, like, now. 

It was later, much later, and Peter and Harley were currently walking out of the 9/11 memorial museum. Tony had sent a text with tickets for a tour, and so when they woke up, Peter for the second time, an hour after he had woken up the first time, woken by the soft shift of the comforter and a soft sigh from Harley. 

“Good mornin’,” Harley mumbled when Peter’s eyes opened and Harley saw him blinking slowly in the bright light. Peter smiled a bit, worries that Harley would be weirded out or freaked by their accidental cuddling flying out the window as Harley smiled back, shifting and taking a deep breath. He couldn’t help but notice that Harley’s accent came out more right when he woke up, as opposed to the rest of the time when it was just a tinge of a country accent on a few words. “God, that was a good sleep.”

The museum was good, interesting and extremely sad. There were little videos, displays, and though Peter knew enough about everything, seeing it in a museum, seeing things he didn’t know, hearing first-hand accounts… it really solidified the tragedy in Peter’s mind. He is part of the first generation that doesn’t have a full account, wasn’t watching the tragedy live on television. He is one of the youngest who was even alive for it, as he was born only a month before it had happened. Harley was older, but said he still doesn’t remember it at all. Somewhere in the middle of the museum, during a particularly sad bit (though it was all sad), Harley’s hand intertwined with Peter’s. They shared a look, and the shiny eyes that looked back at Peter’s really hurt his heart. Their hands stayed intertwined all the way until they were walking out of the museum, bright, early afternoon light temporarily blinding them. 

Peter wasn’t sure if he should drop his hand, but before he could fret over it in his head, a huge group of people came out the doors behind them and Peter pulled Harley to the side to avoid being trampled. 

“Tourists are obnoxious,” Peter muttered under his breath, as the family of maybe twenty, all wearing matching t-shirts, trampled by, all aged anywhere from three to ninety. 

“Hey, I’m a tourist!” Harley objected, and Peter temporarily forgot that, yeah, Harley is a tourist. Peter was hanging out with him because he had been assigned as a tour guide by Tony, not because they were… actually friends. The cuddling, watching the Great British Bake Off, the small shared smiles and nudges on the subway… it was obligatory. Harley was only hanging out with Peter because he was supposed to be hanging out with Tony and Peter was the only alternative. 

Fuck. 

“I mean like those kinda tourists. The ones who wear ‘I heart NYC’ shirts, and who have fanny packs, and who don’t understand how the subway works and hold up lines at corner shops. You aren’t really a tourist, at least aren’t with a New York native at your side.” 

Harley beamed, leaning into Peter’s side a bit. “Thanks for saving me from being said tourist. I would probably die if you hated me.” 

There was a way to get Peter’s heart pumping. 

They stood in silence for a second, before Harley pulled Peter (by the clasped hands) to the fountain, where they spent a good amount of time walking around, reading names. 

“They put flowers on the people who have birthdays,” Peter said softly as Harley stopped to touch the white flower sitting on the edge. Harley nodded, usual sass and talkative nature gone, replaced by a quiet, openly vulnerable exterior, one that matched many of the people walking around them. 

After a few more minutes, they began to walk away, chatting away at what to eat. 

When Peter’s worst nightmare erupted in his face. 

“Parker?” 

Okay, maybe not his worst nightmare, but an annoying little naggy one at that. Peter sighed, instantly dropping Harley’s hand, which hurt him slightly. He didn’t focus on it as he turned slowly, watching as Flash pushed past the same group of tourists Peter had just berated minutes before (making them turn glares onto Flash, and mutter “goddamn rude”, which Peter’s hearing kindly picked up on) to come up to them, eyes briefly flicking to Harley next to Peter. 

“Hello, Flash,” Peter sighed, and Flash raised an eyebrow. 

“What are you doing in this part of town?” Flash asked, and he wondered if Harley thought that Flash was his friend or something. God, he hoped not. He couldn’t remember if he had said Flash’s name when they were talking about Peter’s less-than-good classmates the day before, right before May cut off the conversation and they never brought it up again. Or at least hadn’t yet. Harley probably didn’t care enough about Peter to bring it up again, because why would he? 

“Uh, showing someone around. This is Harley,” Peter said awkwardly, and Harley waved half heartedly, obviously feeling as awkward as Peter was emoting. “Harley, this is Flash. We are on decathlon together.” 

“Hey,” Harley said, smiling with an obvious fake smile. Obvious to Peter, maybe not to Flash. He wondered if Flash even noticed it was fake. He then wondered if the fake smile was given to Peter before they actually started doing stuff together. 

“Why are you hanging out with Paker?” 

All Peter wishes was for Flash to be somewhat likeable, just right now, just for this moment. He just doesn’t want to see a sympathizing look from Harley later, one he got whenever Flash is mentioned from Mr. Stark, May, and Happy. He doesn’t need that from Harley, too, even if he already got part of it the day before. 

“Oh, uh, I know him through the Stark internship,” Harley said, and Flash looked temporarily shocked, then morphed into annoyance as he turned his gaze onto Peter. 

“Really?” He asked, tone reeking of disbelief, and Peter sighed through his nose, nodding. Flash turned back to Harley and squinted. “You aren’t from here?” 

“Nope, Tennessee,” Harley said, and Peter noticed that his accent was leaking through more since Flash walked up. He was slightly hiding behind his out-of-town accent, and why wouldn’t he? Peter literally just told him that most New Yorkers hate tourists basically.

“How do you have a Stark internship if you live in Tennessee?” Flash narrowed his eyes, and Peter looked over to Harley, too. Harley looked awkward, hands now shoved in his pockets, but he smiled kindly. Southern hospitality required a nice exterior, and apparently that extended to having to talk to a random kid from the class of a boy who you are forced to be hanging out with. 

“Uh, I know Tony from a while ago,” Harley opted to say, and Peter agreed that sounded better than “helped him fix an Iron Man suit while he had a day long panic attack”. 

Flash just nodded, still squinting in suspicion. 

“So how long are you staying in town?” He asked. Peter just wanted this to be over. It was a bit of a weird experience, seeing Flash be completely nice and seeming like at least a decent human. He was so used to only hearing Flash’s teasing, and he just wanted Flash to move on so he can go back to a pleasant day with Harley again. 

 

\--

 

Flash could apparently pull out all the stops to being a nice person. He also apparently couldn’t pick up on social queues when he isn’t wanted. And, on top of it all, apparently he could be nice to Peter, too, when they weren’t in school surrounded by people egging him on. 

They were at a late lunch, as it was almost three in the afternoon, at some hipster diner that Flash “just had to share, trust me, you’ve never had pancakes like this before.'' So, they walked about five blocks, Flash pulled them into a booth, and now they were all chatting like they were best of friends. Which… was weird.

“So you’re on decathlon, too? Peter said that earlier, yeah?,” Harley was saying, sipping his milkshake and looking between Peter next to him and Flash across the table. 

“Yeah, I’m an alternate, though. Still really cool that I get to travel everywhere with the team,” Flash said, and Peter bit his lip. He was so aware of how easily Flash could just… bring up everything about how Peter was flaky on the team sometimes, how he would disappear, all of that. And if Harley found that out, with his extra Peter knowledge he no doubt has from Tony… it’s safe to say he might put two and two together. 

“That’s cool. Everyone at your school is super smart I’m guessing?” Harley looked to Peter for this, and Peter shrugged. 

“You have to test into it, if that’s what you mean,” Peter mumbled, and Flash beamed from the other side. 

“Come on, Parker! The schools super smart, and all of the students are, too. It’s the best science school in the state of New York.” It had hints of Flash-like bragging, the undertones of him saying he was really the best, but still. He kinda complimented Peter in there, too, if he thought about it. 

“I guess,” Peter said, and Harley nudged him, smiling. Peter was blushing a little bit, staring at the table, trying not to think about Flash watching him almost suspiciously. 

Once their food arrived and they were each halfway through their plates of pancake, which, as much as Peter hated to admit it because giving Flash satisfaction was the bane of his existence, were damn good pancakes, Flash asked, “Are you going to the tour tomorrow, Parker?” 

“What tour?” Peter asked through a mouthful of pancake, causing Harley to snort. 

“The NYU tour, remember? Most of the class is going? Mr. Harrington arranged it?” Flash said, and Peter was whip lashed by the planned trip. Shit. He had to go to that, promised May he would pick up the financial support packet. 

“Oh shit,” Peter said, looking to Harley. “I completely forgot about that.” 

 

\--

 

Lunch was over before they knew it, and like he had arrived, Flash disappeared into the crowd of New York, leaving Peter and Harley alone once again. It now seemed awkward, odd, being alone, even though they spent most of the past 48 hours with each other, and literally slept in the same bed the night before. Peter shifted awkwardly, looking around before looking back to Harley. 

“So what do you want to do? I don’t really have any plans,” Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck, and Harley shrugged, then looked down to his feet, almost self consciously? Which… wasn’t right. Harley was usually so open, so happy, so uncaring of others opinions. “What? Think of something?” 

“No, I, uh…” He looked back up, and took a breath. “Tony promised me that we would go to this hipster bookstore I saw on… well, actually, your Instagram, I guess. It looked really cool in the pictures you posted, and I read some comments and a lot were saying it was a really cool spot, and—” 

“Wait, Strand? Is that what you’re talking about?” Peter asked, and Harley nodded, still looking awkward. “Dude, that place is awesome! My friend MJ, did I tell you about her? She took me there like a month ago and I’ve been meaning to go back but I keep forgetting, but now’s like the perfect time, and we can go to the Bean, this amazing coffee place next door, and—” Peter promptly cut off his babbling, realizing they were already walking, Peter’s subconscious carrying them back towards the 9/11 memorial and the subway station there. Harley was following with a smile that had morphed from awkward and unsure to calm, happy, as he watched Peter babble. “Sorry, I get excited.” 

“No, it’s cute, don’t worry about it,” Harley said, and immediately looked down at their feet. 

Peter didn’t respond (if he opened his mouth his heart might explode), and continued to lead the way. He jogged to cross a street before it turned, and grabbed Harley’s wrist to pull him along. When he began to let go, however, Harley maneuvered his hand so their fingers were clasped, now fully holding hands. And fuck, fuck, fucking fuck. 

Peter was a goner. 

 

\--

 

The benches outside of The Bean were worn wood, adding to the hipster aesthetic of the whole street corner. Harley and Peter sat there, Harley’s bags at their feet, as they sipped their drinks while Peter flipped through picture after picture. 

“Not that it, like, matters or anything, but my follower count jumped like fifty people since you posted that picture,” Harley said, scrolling through. “Wait, are these your friends?”

Peter leaned over (though he didn’t need to, they were already pressed together, shoulders, thighs, knees, and ankles touching), and saw Harley click on one of the accounts that followed him, nedleeds47. He clicked off quickly, and clicked on the next one, which was mj.ones. 

“Yeah, Ned and MJ. Surprised you remembered their names!” Peter chuckled, and Harley shrugged, smiling a bit. 

“Yeah, well… their bios both say “Midtown Tech” so I put two and two together,” Harley said softly, face pinking a little in the cheeks and dammit if that wasn’t adorable. 

He shot a text off to the group chat asking why they followed him, began to edit a few pictures, when Harley leaned over to look at Peter’s phone. 

“What’s with you and taking creep shots of me?” He asked, as Peter focused on editing a picture of Harley while he sorted through the multiple pins and button cases, holding like ten already in his hands, smiling at something or other. Peter really liked the picture, maybe not because of the cool shadows and the way Harley seemed to be framed by books, but rather because of… the subject… of the photo. 

Ugh. 

“C’mon Harley, you have a famous,” He emphasized the word, making Harley smile at his dorkiness, “Photographer with you, here. You don’t expect me to not take pictures of you?” 

His second emphasis, on “you”, made Peter’s heart stutter to a stop, and Harley’s heartbeat to jump a little faster, which… how was he supposed to read that? 

“Can I ask you something?” Harley said, and Peter turned off his phone, heartbeats of both of them a little off kilter, turning to him. What was he going to say? I know you have a crush on me? Your crush is fucking disgusting and I hate that I have to spend time with you? You are just some random high schooler I have to spend time with, stop pretending we are friends? 

Just then, because of course, a black cat pulled up to the curb beside them, front window being rolled down. Happy Hogan himself stuck his head out, staring at the two boys. 

“C’mon. Boss sent me to pick you up,” Happy said, and Peter looked back to Harley, who also shared a look of mild confusion, but jumped to throw his now-empty cup away and get his stuff together. 

“Did you track us here?” Peter asked as Harley took his cup, opening the door to the backseat. He slid in, Harley following. “Is Mr. Stark back?” 

“No,” Happy said, watching them in the mirror. “Good to see you, Harley.” 

“You too, Happy. How’s life?” Harley smiled, and Happy grunted, looking at the road as he began driving to God knows where. Peter was still recovering from that little moment just a few seconds ago. He was sure he was flushed in the face, and he was sure Happy could see it. He was positive Harley could also see it, and was really really thankful that no one was mentioning as he had a miniature panic attack. 

He tuned out whatever the hell Happy was talking about, and only tuned back in once he heard his name called twice by Happy. 

“Huh?” He said, looking back from the window he had been staring lifelessly out of, seeing both Happy looking at him in the mirror and Harley tipping his head, semi-concerned look crossing his features. 

“I said, Tony scheduled for you to go to the One World Trade Tower Observation, is that alright?” Happy said, focusing back on the road with a lasting sympathizing look. 

“Oh! Sure, if Harley wants to,” Peter said, and looked over to Harley, who nodded, smiling slightly, but Peter could tell it was a little unsure, but that was probably due to Peter’s slightly odd behavior. This entire day had been slightly odd, so no one could really blame him. He really just had lunch with a guy who had been calling him “Penis” for four years, and it had been (dare he admit it) decently pleasant. “What time is it?” 

“Almost six. The observation isn’t until seven, so we have about an hour. Have y’all eaten dinner?” 

“We had a late lunch, but I could eat,” Harley said, looking to Peter for confirmation, and he nodded once, stomach growling as if on command. Harley smiled. “Are there any good food places?”

“There’s a Shake Shack a few blocks from the tower?” Happy suggested, and they agreed. “How’s New York been, Harley? Parker giving you a good time?” 

Do not say it like that. Peter silently groaned, shifting a bit. 

“Yeah!” Harley answered, not noticing or at least not acknowledging Peter’s awkward shifting. “We went to a baseball game, and the 9/11 memorial, and the Met. Pete’s also kept me from getting lost on subways and getting run over by cars, so it's been good!” 

“Peter is good for one thing, and that’s not getting hit by cars,” Happy agreed, holding back a smile just barely, but Peter could see through him, which made him smile a bit, too. He knew Happy liked him, he just pretended to not. Peter saw through him, though. He knew that he had wiggled his way into Happy’s life, and even though they didn’t acknowledge it, they both knew they were there for each other, mostly in teasing Tony in his self destructive tendencies. It was nice. 

“I’m okay at science,too,” Peter mumbled, causing Harley to laugh heartily and Happy to bite back a smile. 

“I’m sure you are,” Harley said through a chuckle, grabbing Peter’s hand briefly and squeezing it before letting go again, which… 

Apparently Harley really enjoyed the “let’s flirt with Peter even though nothing would ever happen” game. And apparently Peter blushed very easily when it came to blonde, tall, southern guys. 

Happy was still glancing up at Peter every few seconds, and the knowing glint in his eyes, one to match Tony’s own knowing looks, buried itself into Peter’s soul, and he turned back to the window to ignore it, but his cheeks still pinked and he could still feel the glare on his skin. 

 

\--

 

“I can’t believe these aren’t everywhere, this is fucking delicious,” Harley moaned as he ate his burger. Peter smiled into his own chicken sandwich, and Happy snorted a bit. 

“Yes, they are very good,” Happy agreed, and Harley moaned again as he sipped the milkshake. 

“Very good? These are heavenly. Literally heaven on Earth,” He said, and Peter chuckled. 

“It’s just a burger, Harls. Not life changing,” Peter said, and Harley gasped dramatically, narrowing his eyes. 

“How dare you say that about heaven, Peter Parker? You didn’t even get one, you got fucking chicken? At a place dedicated to burgers?” 

“I think they are dedicated to shakes, actually,” Peter said, and Harley reached over, punching his shoulder, hard. Peter yelped, rubbing his arm with a fake grimace. It didn’t really hurt, superpowers and all, but he could still groan about it. “Dick.” 

Harley raised an eyebrow, and he looked as if he was going to respond to that, but decided not to, and instead took another bite of burger, moaning again. He needed to stop moaning, otherwise Peter’s teenage hormones would decide to go wild. 

They finished in relative quietness, and Harley didn’t even raise an eyebrow when Happy gave the second burger he had ordered to Peter with no questions or interaction involved. Peter just took it, a bit deflated in movements, biting into it. He knew Happy was just looking out for him, but… he hated how he had to be treated special when it came to food and snacks, and the amounts he ate and when and what every single day. It felt like he was constantly dieting, but instead of cutting back on food by himself for health reasons, he was being forced to eat more than he liked just to stay alive and not ravenous everyday. 

“Okay, we have ten minutes to get to the tower, need to potty?” 

“Need to potty?” Harley repeated incredulously, and Peter laughed. “Never, ever, say that again. Ever.” 

Happy just raised his eyebrows, and Harley sighed. 

“Relentless, you are. I see why Tony likes you,” He said, pointing accusingly, before smiling to show he is joking, sliding out of the booth. “Don’t leave without me, I would probably get mugged then die on the street.” 

As he walked off, Peter felt jittery and nervous. Happy was going to say something, because of course he was. 

“So,” Happy said, and Peter could hear the smirk, could hear the smugness seeping into his voice, and he refused to make eye contact, instead stare down at the table and his burger wrappers, biting his lip and not responding. Maybe if he didn’t, Happy wouldn’t talk to him. “You and Harley, huh?” 

Apparently not. 

“What? No,” Peter mumbled, crossing his arms self consciously. He felt really exposed with Happy staring at him. 

“You are wearing his clothes. That shirt literally says ‘Rose Hill High’ on it.” 

Peter looked at his shirt. He completely forgot he was wearing Harley’s shirt. He didn’t want to wear his baseball jersey from the day before, so that morning, after they woke up cuddling, Harley gave Peter a shirt to change into. Peter had completely forgot. 

Oh shit, Flash definitely saw the shirt. Flash definitely, definitely put two and two together. Maybe that’s why he was nice to Harley, because he thought… 

Whatever. Let Flash think what he wants, he would probably forget come September, so it will be okay. 

“Would you believe me if I said it was mine and I’m just a really big fan of the town?” Peter asked quietly, and Happy didn’t respond, leading Peter to sigh harshly. “I just crashed in his hotel last night. It isn’t a big deal.” 

“So you don’t like him? No feelings being exchanged? Just… crashing at a boy you’ve known for two day’s hotel room?” 

“Yes,” Peter said confidently, forcefully, definitely too quickly. His face was practically burning. 

“Okay,” Happy said, but there was no way he believed that. He could read Peter like a goddamn open book. It annoyed the crap out of Peter, mostly because reading Happy was near impossible sometimes and he literally only had two emotions for the most part—emotionless and annoyance, sometimes a mix of hidden happiness in there, but those moments were rare. 

“Okay?” Peter questioned before he could stop himself, then grimaced. He could’ve just left it, let it go, let himself wallow in self pity until Tony gets back and he probably never sees Harley again, maybe cries once about it, then moves on. That was the easy route. 

No, that was the wimp route. Peter was more than happy to admit that, though, only because there wasn’t any other option. He developed pointless, stupid feelings, too fast, too hard, and he didn’t even know if Harley was gay or liked boys. He didn’t even know, like, basic knowledge about Harley, past a once-mentioned little sister, the fact that he gets really interested in british baking shows, and he knows everything about the rules of baseball. There was no other route for Peter to take, there was no trying to flirt, attempt a conversation, anything like that. Because it would be pointless. He would leave in a few days to go back to Tennessee anyway, then after that he would be at MIT, having a college experience, living a much more exciting life than Peter, his senior year of high school, and the occasional crime-stopping he does on the sidelines. 

“If you say you don’t have feelings, then you don’t,” Happy said, then leaned in a bit. “But if you do, either man up and talk about them or hide them a lot better than you are doing.” 

“I’m a horrible liar, Hap,” Peter mumbled, and Happy leaned back again, copying Peter in crossing his arms, and looking over to the bathrooms, where Harley was already walking back from. 

“Then talk about it.” 

 

\--

 

Okay, Peter knew more than he led on. Yeah, he knew about the sister, the baseball, and the baking. He also knew he loved romcoms almost as much as Peter it seemed, apparently liked Legally Blonde 2 enough to suggest it as a movie to watch as if it wouldn’t ruin the night, and was smart enough to fix a goddamn Iron Man suit when he was, like, eleven. 

And, apparently, he was scared of heights. 

As Peter, Harley, and Happy rode the 104 floor elevator up towards the top of the One World Trade Center building, Harley looked like he was going to start crying. He was gripping Peter’s hand (which he grabbed the second the elevator doors closed) so hard that if Peter didn’t have super healing and a big tolerance for pain thanks to getting shot/stabbed/punched almost daily would’ve hurt and probably bruised a lot. He just lightly squeezed back in support, watching the screens around them change as they climbed, and yeah, this was really cool. Of course Peter had been this high on the outside of the building, mostly because Ned challenged him once to climb the highest buildings in New York, leading him to an impromptu photoshoot with those inside the observatory as he stuck to the outside. But he’d never been inside, and the cool projections really impressed him. Around him, it seemed to show New York through hundreds of years, and it developed, buildings growing and growing around them. Happy even looked impressed, but Harley’s eyes were screwed shut, lips clamped shut, grimace on his face. 

Happy and Peter made eye contact and Peter grimaced to him as his eyes flicked to their intertwined hands and again raised his eyebrows. Peter flipped him off with his free hand, just as the elevator slowed to a stop and the door slid open. 

Peter pulled Harley out, who was shaking just a little bit, and down the hallway, where there was another presentation, this time the windows opening to reveal the skyline outside. Harley watched intently, and he obviously found it cool when the windows revealed the skyline, but Peter could tell his heart rate was still a little too high for normal, and squeezed his hand again. 

“You okay?” He asked quietly as they moved towards the actual circle observatory the floor below, where you could walk around and see a whole 360 degree view of New York and Jersey. 

“Yeah, thanks. Just… I’ve never been this high before. I mean, besides the plane ride here, but that was the first time, and that wasn’t as scary because… well, it was scary, but this is—” 

“It’s okay,” Peter cut him off, noticing the signs of stress and anxiety floating into his voice, the rambling setting off Peter’s “Must Protect” instincts, apparently. “I will stay by you, and we don’t have to get close to the windows if you don’t want.” 

Harley smiled, small and tentative, and squeezed Peter’s hand back. “Thanks.” 

“Always,” Peter said, right before Happy behind them coughed loudly. They turned, and he took a deep breath. 

“I’m gonna explore, find me when you are done,” He said, before turning and quickly walking off. He looked a little out of place, as he was wearing a literal suit surrounded by tourists, but still confident somehow. Peter hoped he could one day not be riddled with anxiety wherever he went, but it was probably a lost cause by now. 

“We can get… a little closer. Just, not like, super close,” Harley said, and Peter nodded. 

“Whatever you want. Go as close as you want, I’m not gonna push you,” Peter said, and Harley continued to look at him for a few more seconds, and Peter could tell his heart rate increased a little bit more. Huh. 

 

\--

 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you back to your apartment?” Happy asked as he pulled up to the curb by the hotel. Peter looked over to Harley uncertainly, and Harley looked back. They seemed to have a conversation in blinks, as Harley nodded once, and Peter just nodded back, still uncertain. 

“Yeah, this is good, Happy,” Harley said, and opened the door. “Are you gonna pick us up another time, again?” 

“Depends on what else Tony has planned for you guys. If you need a ride, I’m sure Tony will force me to come get you guys. So, please don’t need a ride. Busses exist, you know.” 

Peter smiled. “Thanks, Happy. See you soon?” 

“Yeah kid. Don’t forget when Tony gets back you gotta come to the compound.” 

Peter nodded. “Got it.” 

They waved one last time at the car they were on the street, and once Happy was down the street far enough, Peter turned to Harley awkwardly. 

“Uh, so…” 

Harley stayed quiet, looking around slowly. 

“The city is really pretty at night,” Harley said, then jumped a bit, smile spreading on his face. “C’mon! I think we can get to the roof.” 

“What?” Peter was prepared to tell Harley he didn’t have to let Peter stay at the hotel again if he was weirded out, and that Peter only got out because he hated making Happy drive all the way over to his apartment when he could just take the subway easily. 

“Come on! I wanna look at everything from the roof!” Harley grabbed his hand, and pulled him towards the door of the hotel. He followed behind, cold air in the lobby hitting him, cooling him off. Summer in New York was no fucking joke. 

He followed Harley to the elevator, and as they stood there, a man in a suit walked up. It looked exactly like the one Happy was wearing, except this man didn’t hide any resonating happiness for Peter or Harley he hid behind a grimace; this man just grimaced. 

Harley bit back a laugh, and once he heard a snort from him, after they entered the elevator and the man pressed the third highest floor and Harley pressed the top floor, Peter had to bite back his own laugh. 

By the time the elevator was reaching the man’s floor, Harley and Peter were almost shaking with badly concealed laughter. The man stared at them angrily as the elevators opened, and got out with one last angry look. 

The doors slid shut and Harley actually doubled over with laughter, hand shaking. Peter realized their hands were still intertwined. Harley never let go, and Peter… didn’t even notice. From holding his hand at the memorial earlier that day, to the talk with Happy, again holding his hand at the Observatory… the mild feelings Peter discovered the day before seemed to have exploded. Maybe because it was the only thing he could think about, since Harley was there all the time, he was smiling, and close, and Peter was wearing his clothes. He was wearing his fucking clothes. 

Everything about his life currently was so fucking up. He was being forced by a billionaire superhero to hang out with a teenager from Tennessee for the first few days of his last summer of high school because said superhero is on a maybe-dangerous mission to stop generic bad guys in God knows where.

And here Peter was, falling in love with the damn country boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i did say i was going to finish this before far from home came out, and now it is three days later and i barely finished this chapter  
> this chapter took so much longer than the others for no reason other than i just couldn't make myself sit down and write it in one sitting, so i wrote like in five hundred word sittings for the past few days, oops.   
> technically halfway through! i might add another chapter, im not 100% sold on the ending i have planned, so who knows.   
> anyway thanks for reading!!! follow my tumblr -- transpeterp


	4. day four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: homophobic slur / blatant homophobia. to skip, do not read from “ “In Rose Hill, I would never be…” to “Harley then looked up, and squinted.”

Peter dreamt of the night sky, of warmth, happiness, and Harley Keener’s voice. 

Because of course he did. 

He woke up to his ringtone blasting through the quiet hotel room. It wasn’t even a song, it was an incessant beeping that seemed to get louder with each ring. 

“Make it fucking stop!” Harley groaned, pulling the pillow their heads were on (because they were again cuddling, because Peter’s subconscious was a dick) and pushing it into his face. Peter moaned a little, struggling to sit up and reach over, blindly grabbing his phone off the little bedside table. 

“Hello?” He mumbled, flopping back down with the phone to his ear.

“Answer your door, Peter. Me and Ned have been knocking for like five minutes. We gotta go, man,” MJ practically screamed into the phone. 

“What are you talking about?” Peter groaned a little, holding his free hand to his face. Next to him, Harley rolled over, eyes drifting open as he looked at Peter next to him, eyebrows furrowed as he watched Peter. 

“We. Are. At. Your. Apartment. We. Are. Going. To. Be. Late.” MJ talked super slowly, and he could hear Ned groaning in the background. 

“Who is it?” Harley mumbled, and Peter waved his hand to shush him. 

“Who was that? Peter what’s going on?” MJ was saying, and Harley began to laugh, which made Peter have to reach over, covering his mouth with his hand. 

“No one. Why are you at my—Stop licking my hand!” Peter said, lightly hitting Harley, which made him cackle. 

“Peter what the fuck? Are you even home?” MJ said, and Peter could hear Ned whisper “what the fuck is going on.'' 

“Uh…” Peter looked over to Harley, who had sat up while he was laughing. “I’m at a hotel.” 

“Peter Benjamin Parker.” That was Ned, who obviously pulled the phone from MJ. “You are at a hotel with someone?” 

“Uh…” Harley, obviously hearing this part of the conversation, smiled dorkily then began making kissing faces, which… Peter would laugh at if his entire world wasn’t exploding currently. “No?” 

“Okay.” Peter could hear struggling, then MJ’s voice floating through as she obviously won their little battle. “Peter, we have to get our asses to Washington Square Park, like, now. If we are late, that really wouldn’t look good, now would it? And I get it, you are really set on MIT, and that’s cool. But we made these plans how many weeks ago, okay dumbass?” 

“Shit,” Peter mumbled. “Okay. Okay, I’m not in Queens. You guys, get down as quickly as you can, yeah? I will… I’ll meet you there. Don’t… just, I will explain everything when we get there, okay?” 

MJ sighed heavily, then hung up. 

Peter groaned, tossing his phone towards the end of the bed, throwing his head back on the pillow with an “oomph”. 

“Holy shit, your friends think we are sleeping together,” Harley barked through laughter, rolling backwards so he was laying next to Peter again. Peter just groaned again. 

“I have to go,” He said, and Harley looked over, laughter dissipating. “I gotta… remember yesterday, that guy from my school we ran into? He mentioned—remember when he mentioned our tour of NYU?” 

Harley nodded, propping himself on his elbow to look at Peter. It felt way too intimate to Peter; laying in bed with a guy as he listened intently to you talking with a small smile on his face. If Peter could, he would get up so he wasn’t just laying there, stuck in his emotions, but literally nothing could seem to move him from that spot. Which was… sad. 

“Well, I completely forgot to, like, cancel or whatever. And, I can’t cancel day of, you know? Bad rep and all that. So, I… Well, can we… Uh…” 

“Hey Peter?” Harley said, reaching up and lightly pressing Peter’s nose with his pinky finger. “Why don’t we head down to NYU, I can sit and read by the big arch thingy in Washington Square Park, and you can go on your tour. Then I could also meet your friends so they will realize that you weren’t just sleeping with some random guy and covering up lovebites with your super healing.” 

Peter sighed, relieved. “Thank you. You are a lifesaver.” 

“Still gonna have to wear my clothes,” Harley said, voice dropping an octave it seemed, and Peter would forever swear that he saw Harley’s eyes temporarily blink down to Peter’s lips, then back to his eyes, which… what a way to wake up someone, huh? Ice cold water dumped on his head would’ve been less damaging, probably. 

“That’s… okay.” Peter could feel both of their pulses while they lay there, and he was sure Harley could too, which made everything way too intimate. And instead of pushing his luck, maybe acting on the subtle clues he had just received from the older boy, he said this instead. “Might need to actually borrow pants this time, I can’t wear shorts three days in a row, that’s pushing it with the gross factor.” 

“Okay, I have some jeans that will work if you roll them up,” Harley said, voice back to normal, and he sat up extremely quickly, heartbeat going wild. Peter didn’t read into that and instead watching him stretch sitting there, back muscles shifting and moving and when the fuck did Harley even take his shirt off? Why was God torturing Peter? Peter was so close he could literally reach out and touch the muscles. He didn’t… but he could. 

He was too distracted by said muscles to even register Harley saying “super healing”. 

 

\--

 

They had Starbucks in hand and were within view of Washington Square Park when Peter heard a voice yell “Peter goddamn Parker, you better explain yourself!” and he almost screamed in horror. 

And up came MJ and Ned. MJ was wearing jean shorts and a Midtown t-shirt, while Ned was wearing a Star Wars shirt. They both looked a mixture of confused and furious. 

“Uh…” Peter started to say, but neither MJ or Ned seemed to pick up on the fact that the out-of-place, tall guy next to Peter was actually with Peter. Not, like, with Peter, like they were together. Well, they were together, but not like… dating, together. Just… together. In the same space. For the same reason. As they planned to be. 

“What the hell happened this morning? Why were you in a hotel? Where did you meet him? Do we know him? Is he from school? Did you actually hook up with someone from school, Peter? You couldn’t wait one single year?” Ned rambled until Peter cut in.

“Well, actually—” 

“You didn’t even have the audacity to call, too, Parker? That’s low. I can’t believe you stayed in a hotel with a stranger, like overnight. He could’ve murdered you, did you think of that?”

“Or he could’ve found out about—” 

“Guys!” Peter yelled, making them both shut up. Peter gestured out with his arm to Harley, who he accidentally hit in the stomach while gesturing. Harley gave a half confident, easy smile, and half awkward, shy smile as he held up a hand for a small wave. “This is Harley. Harley Keener. You followed him on Instagram, remember?” 

Ned started to say something, but Peter held up a hand, continuing his spiel. 

“I slept at his hotel room last night. It wasn’t a hookup, and since I am seventeen I’m a little disgusted you think I would do that, but me crashing after we went to this observatory thing with Happy yesterday. He is a… friend, would you say?” Peter looked to Harley, who shrugged. “Friend, I guess, of Mr. Stark, and came to visit New York from Tennessee. Mr. Stark is busy, so I have been showing him around.” 

Silence, followed by a soft “oh” from them both, before Ned lit up, reaching over and grabbing Harley’s hand for a shake. “I’m Ned, Peter’s best friend. Sorry for cyber-stalking you, but not really because you didn’t have a twitter I could find and you only have two Instagram posts.” 

“MJ,” was all she said, before she waved and pulled out her phone when it dinged. “Betty said she’s at the building we are supposed to go to.” 

Peter turned to Harley, feeling incredibly sheepish and sorry. “You don’t actually have to wait here. I can call Happy, have him come, take you somewhere actually fun, you know? Or you could come on the tour with us? I can just tell them you are my cousin or something and you can just walk around. I know you are literally going to MIT—” 

“You’re going to MIT? Dude, that’s so—” 

“Not now, Ned. Anyway, you can still walk around, get a feel, just… not have to just sit here?” 

Harley just smiled, and reached into his backpack, which he had pulled in front of him and zipped open in the midst of Peter’s word vomit of anxiousness, pulling out what looked to be an extremely beat up sketchbook that had been to hell and back. It had stains splattered on the cover, was ripped, and had random colors streaking the sides of the pages. “I’m all good, Parker. Seriously, an hour to just sit and enjoy New York? I’m good.” 

“Pete, we gotta go, like now,” MJ said, waving her phone, though Peter didn’t actually look, he could just see it in his peripheral view. “Betty said they are about to start.” 

“A-are you sure?” He asked Harley, even as MJ groaned and grabbed his hand, pulling him a bit. Harley nodded, gave a sincere and heart warming smile, and plopped himself down on one of the benches, flipping open his book. From The odd angle and MJ pulling him away, Peter saw a blur of pencil marks before he turned away with a slight wave and a smile. “See you in an hour!” 

He heard Harley call a “see ya!” and MJ kept pulling him to move faster. 

 

\--

 

An hour and seven minutes later (Peter of course kept track of this), Peter practically threw himself onto Harley on the bench. Harley pulled his sketchbook up in time for Peter’s head to fall into his lap as he lost balance from the throw, and only chuckled when Peter righted himself, eyes wide and apologetic. 

“How was it?” Harley asked, closing the book and slipping it into the bag, which damn. Peter wanted to see what was in it. He didn’t even know that Harley was such an artist kinda guy, but it figures. He wore pastel shirts and pre-ripped jeans.

Peter decided in the hour and seven minutes he spent daydreaming about the blur of grey he had seen in the book that he really liked artists. 

Like, a lot. 

“Your friends seemed nice, for like the point two seconds I saw them,” Harley said, zipping his backpack up. He seemed hesitant for some reason, like he was holding something back. “How long have you known them?” 

“Uh, I met Ned when we were in middle school, but we were only kinda friends. But, we were the only ones from our small little crappy middle school to test into Midtown Tech, so we started hanging out before freshman year to stress about the new school together, and then school started and we were just, like, best friends right away.” 

“What about MJ? She seemed…” 

“Distant? Emotionally lacking? So sarcastically serious it almost seemed to be actual seriousness serious?” Peter filled in, and when Harley didn’t respond and instead opted to look at their feet, Peter knew he hit the jackpot. “We met MJ freshman year, but it wasn’t until sophomore year, when she took over as Decathlon captain that we grew really close with her.” 

“So you are close?” Harley asked, and Peter shrugged.

“Yeah. She’s cool. A good balance for me, I think,” Peter said, and Harley nodded. Peter was close to saying ‘like you’, but decided that wouldn’t be the best decision ever. That actually would be maybe the worst decision ever. 

“So!” Harley suddenly jumped up, holding out a hand to apparently help Peter up, which was ridiculous because he was just on a bench. But, because Peter has no self control and no self preservation when it came to Harley, apparently, he grabbed it. Harley pulled him up, and Peter loosened their hands, but Harley just gripped tighter, pulling him in the direction of the Washington Square Arch. “What are we gonna do with the rest of our day?” 

“I say…” Peter thought for a second. “Let’s grab some food, then we can figure out what else to do. I think it might start to rain, soon?” 

Harley looked up and around. Dark clouds had seemed to loom threateningly throughout the morning, but now they looked less threatening and more just promising of rain. 

“There’s a pizza place nearby. I looked on Google Maps for places I could hide out in during the rain and found one like two blocks from here. Let’s go.” 

Harley pulled on Peter’s hand, and unlike the past three days, it was Harley leading Peter, which made Peter smile. 

New York, mostly Queens but all of New York counted, really, was Peter’s home. He had grown up there. He fought for his city, his neighbors, the smelly subway and the polluted air. Seeing Harley, someone Peter had somehow fallen quick, and hard for over the past few days seem comfortable, begin to vibe with the city, his city… it did something to Peter’s stomach. Butterflies seemed to flutter to his throat, and he coughed in an attempt to clear away the feelings (not like it would ever work, but hey, he could still try). 

They walked hand and hand across one street, and they continued their trek when it began to drizzle just slightly, not enough to clear the streets or anything, but enough to make Peter look up in slight annoyance. 

“This is weird,” Harley said after a second, and Peter turned his attention from alternating between judging when it would begin to pour and keeping his heartrate down so Harley couldn’t feel it through their hands. Maybe that wasn’t even possible. Maybe it was. God, Peter was losing his mind. 

“What’s weird?” Peter asked, and when a man walking their way made no effort to move out of their way, Peter pulled Harley closer, letting the man pass in a frenzy of obliviousness. 

“This.” Harley pulled his hand, and subsequently Peter’s, up, as if showing Peter for the first time. Peter was confused. Harley grabbed his hand. He was the one who didn’t want to release. But it was probably still Peter’s fault. He couldn’t take a hint most days (according to MJ at least), and this was just another prime example. God, Peter really needed to reign in the feelings, the unbearable, extremely quick, extremely deep feelings he developed for Harley over the span of less than 72 hours. He was probably freaking Harley out, terrifying him, making him feel so gross because of course Peter would just force what amounted to nearly-sexual advances on a now-obvious straight boy. 

“I’m… Oh, God, I’m sorry, Harley, I…” Peter pulled his hand, trying to let Harley have the space he deserved, but he couldn’t. Harley clamped his hand down, keeping Peter from pulling his hand free. Well, he could, but he wasn’t about to just use his spider powers in front of Harley, on Harley. 

“What? No, I’m just talking about holding hands,” Harley said, and Peter kept trying to pull his hand away half heartedly. 

“Yeah, I freaked you out, I’m so sorry. Seriously, just—” 

“What? Peter, you didn’t freak me out.” 

Now usually Peter wouldn’t just believe an easy lie like that. Usually he would bite tooth and nail until the person either fully or subconsciously agrees that Peter was a worthless nobody who didn’t deserve everything he had been given. But… 

But. The way that Harley said it. Maybe it was the country accent (Peter, Gen Z poster boy, according to MJ) was still coming to terms with actually being attracted to someone who says y’all unironically, maybe it was the way he said it so forcefully, so earnestly. Peter could almost believe that it was a natural reaction, to deny Peter’s self deprecation and immediately try to build him up. Peter wanted to believe that. Peter wanted a lot of things he couldn’t have, but if this was something he could… 

“I didn’t?” Peter said softly, hand relaxing in Harley’s grip. Peter could tell his hands were warm and calloused, the opposite of Peter’s softer, colder hands. His healing apparently considered callouses something they needed to fix, because even after wed swinging or dangling on a stakeout for three hours, he never had callouses build up. 

“No! I was the one who held your hand, remember?” Harley asked, squeezing once. Peter half heartedly squeezed back, making Harley smile a small bit. “No, I was talking about holding hands in general.” 

Peter noticed they had stopped at some point in that short, almost-mental breakdown, and pulled them to the side to escape the rain under a store window awning, and to not get run over by angry businessmen and hungry students. “What do you mean?”

“In Rose Hill, I would never be allowed to do this,” Harley said, and stared at their hands, almost curiously. It was a dark curiousness. The one Peter carried in the seconds between the shock factor after being stabbed or shot to right before the pain began, as Peter examined the wound with a fascination that would make non-PTSD ridden teenagers collapse at the sight of. “In school I would’ve been shoved into a locker. On the street I would’ve been called a fag, or worse. I mean, I wouldn’t know. I never will have to know it if it got that bad. Thank God.” 

Peter listened intently, and when Harley didn’t say anything, he asked, “Got that bad? Like there was something not as bad?” 

The curiosity was gone, and Peter watched as Harley’s face went from terribly concealed vulnerability to completely closed off. Blank. Peter didn’t expect Harley to even respond, and they stood there for a minute in silence. The rain began to pick up, and though their pants and feet were getting wet, they were mostly dry huddled under the small awning. Right as Peter opened his mouth to suggest getting some pizza, taking a breather, Harley opened his. “I was outed about a year and a half ago.” 

And oh fucking shit. Of fucking course. “Shit,” was apparently all Peter could quickly find to say. Harley smiled, but there was no emotion, no soul. It wasn’t bright, it wasn’t genuine. It wasn’t Harley. 

“Yeah, I told someone, someone I thought I could trust, and…” 

“You couldn’t?” Peter asked, and Harley shrugged, sniffing once. 

“They told someone, then that person told someone, etcetera, etcetera. A week later and I had a lunch tray tipped over on me.” 

“People still do that?” Peter asked, and Harley shrugged again, pretending to examine his shoes with a very unneeded intensity. 

“Dicks in Rose Hill do.” Harley then looked up, and squinted. The rain around them was heavy, loud, and getting worse by the minute. “We should get going, we’re already gonna be drenched and it is getting worse.” 

He dropped Peter’s hand and began walking away in the rain. Peter watched for a minute, watched as the rain bounced off his shoulders, his hair, turning it a darker golden color, making it flatten out as opposed to the puffiness it usually had. 

Peter sighed and jogged the few steps to catch up. 

 

\--

 

Eating lunch was awkward. It was tense and quiet, as they were the only people in the restaurant except the workers, and they just sat there poking and pulling their pizza as they listened to the rain and light music. Afterwards, satisfied by the amazing pizza, Harley seemed to perk up a little, previous conversation slipping from the forefront of their minds as they went and explored the bookstore for the campus next door. 

Harley was perusing the sweatshirts when Peter’s phone rang. 

“Hey Happy, what’s up?” Peter answered, Harley looking over with a smile. 

“Boss wanted me to let you know that—”

“Is this more gifts?” Peter asked, cutting him off. “Because the last one, while great, kinda freaked Harley out and he is supposed to be enjoying his time in New—”

“Don’t interrupt me, Parker. This isn’t bad, I think you will like it. Where are you guys right now?”

“Uh, NYU bookstore on Broadway. Why?” Harley walked over, and leaned over, trying to hear Happy’s response jokingly. 

“I’m picking you up, Harley needs to change into dress clothes then we gotta drive to Queens to pick up your nice clothes and your aunt.” 

Harley leaned back, tilting his head with confusion. He mouthed, “what?” and Peter shrugged, also confused at where this was coming from. 

“Pick us up? For what exactly?” 

“Oh, yeah, forgot that part. Tony set it up for me to take you kids and your aunt to this fancy shmancy Italian place then to a Broadway play.” 

“What?!” Peter whisper screamed. “Which one?” 

“Uh, the one about a teen suicide. Bad message on Tony’s part, but I think it’s, like, critically acclaimed.” 

“Oh my god,” Peter said, and Harley, not able to hear, shook his head as if to asking what was happening. 

A minute later, Happy hung up with “I’ll be there in a few minutes” and Peter sighed heavily, turning to Harley. 

“What?” Harley chuckled at Peter’s exasperated face.

“Guess we are going to a play.” 

 

\--

 

“Hi, Harley! How’s your trip been?” May pulled the taller teenager into a hug after she opened the apartment door for Peter, Harley, and Happy. Harley looked somewhat uncomfortable, especially as he was wearing a short-sleeved button down and khakis and Peter was still in jeans and a t-shirt. Maybe it should be Peter who felt awkward, though, as he was in jeans and a t-shirt, and Harley, Happy, and May were already dressed up. 

“It’s been good. Peter here is a good tour guide,” Harley chuckled, nudging Peter with his elbow and making him giggle slightly, nudging back. Behind them, Happy gave them both a shove forward so he could also step into the apartment. 

“Go get dressed, Parker. We have reservations,” Happy said, nodding to May, and Peter ducked around Harley and May to go to his room, turning and sticking his tongue out at Happy as he did, who just scowled back. 

In his room, he dove into his closet, looking desperately for something nice looking. May had been wearing a super pretty dress, Happy his normal suit, and even Harley had packed something nice, and Peter… he felt like he had absolutely nothing. 

Searching for clean khakis took a few minutes, letting Peter get caught up in his mind about what the hell he was doing, something he had been trying to ignore the entire time he was with Harley, except from the quiet moments when he woke up with Harley wrapped around him in the soft, comfortable hotel bed. He thought briefly that it felt like he was playing gay chicken at this point, with the little looks, the emotional talks, the hand holding. 

Harley himself fascinated Peter. Everything about him. He was smart, kind, beautiful, and besides living through so much in his life, he was still so strong, so excitable, so… amazing. Somehow, he managed to continue to smile, continue to see the good in people even after everything that has happened to him in his life. Even Peter, who has been through his own fair share of tragedies, sometimes failed to do that.

What had started as a “holy shit he’s hot and has an accent” schoolboy crush on the older boy, has turned into a “holy shit he might be the nicest, most perfect guy I’ve ever met” becoming-even-more-than-a-crush. And it’s only been, like, three and a half days.

Peter was screwed. Well and truly fucked. 

“Peter?” 

He jumped, whipping his head around to his door, where Harley was standing hesitantly, small smile on his face. Peter couldn’t even stop his natural smile back. “Hi. Sorry, I was trying to find a shirt.” 

Harley stepped forward, looking at Peter’s closet, where Peter had pulled his dressier shirts to the front. Harley continued moving forward until he was right next to Peter, and reached in himself, pulling out a blue shirt and a red shirt, turning and holding them both up to Peter. 

“Hmm…” Harley hummed, then put the red back, and holding the blue up to confirm. “There.” 

Peter hated the blush that crept onto his face as he took the shirt from Harley slowly, Harley’s smile still digging deep into his soul. He was sure to have dreams about that smile for months to come. “Th...thanks.” 

“Don’t sweat it,” He said softly, and God, they were close. Like, almost pressed chest to chest. Peter was having a mini-panic attack at being so close that he could see the specks in Harley’s kind eyes. 

Kind eyes. Who the hell was Peter right now.

“You… have good taste,” He said, equally softly. 

“Mhm,” Harley hummed, leaning forward the slightest bit. 

Whoever Peter was, the head-over-heels, love-struck idiot he was being… he hated it. Or loved it. He couldn’t even tell that much. 

“Boys! We’re gonna be late!” May’s voice floated in through the half-open doorway, and Harley sucked in a deep breath, smile changing from the soft, secretive one he held to a more open, seemingly less personal one. 

“We’re gonna be late,” Peter said, also smiling a bit. 

“Yeah. Don’t wanna piss off Happy.” 

“Screw Happy, if we are late May will blame me for everything wrong with everything in the world,” Peter chuckled, and Harley exhaled in place of a laugh, smiling wider. 

He then brought a hand up and placed it on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing once, before taking a step back, and turning towards the door to leave. 

“Change quickly. See you out there, Spidey.” 

Peter watched him leave, closing the door behind him with one last smile to Peter. 

A minute later, as Peter struggled to button up his shirt, it hit him like a slap across the face. 

Spidey. 

 

\--

 

Peter couldn’t even remember what had happened at dinner and the play. It was a blur of a really fast heartbeat, avoiding Harley’s looks, and mumbled one word answers when dragged into a conversation. 

Back in Happy’s car after the play was over, May handed Peter an overnight bag with pajamas and clothes for the next day, to which Happy assured them he wasn’t going to spring any more surprises on them. 

May wished both of them goodnight, and Harley told them to drive safe, and both boys got out in front of the hotel. Peter followed Harley inside feeling as if he was floating through the air, numb to the rest of the world. 

Okay. Harley knows. He knows. That wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like he was going to spill it to Peter’s school. He didn’t even live here. 

But okay. He knows. He knows that Peter can literally stick to walls, knows that Peter has many hated enemies out to get him all the time, and that Peter was almost constantly in danger of having his life ruined if more people outside his tight-knit group found out. 

Everything felt subsequently too intense and dull at the same time as they made their way to the elevator, boarding in complete silence. Gone was the slight buzz of sexual tension, gone were the soft looks they shared, Peter’s involuntary smiles at Harley’s grins. Peter crossed his arms so their hands wouldn’t brush. He wouldn’t even look away from his hard glare at the closed elevator doors as they moved upwards. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? All night you’ve—” 

“Not here,” Peter hissed, cutting him off, and he hated how mean that sounded but couldn’t help it. 

“Is it because I—” 

“Not. Here.” Peter said sternly, just as the door dinged and it opened on their floor. His floor. Harley’s floor. It wasn’t theirs. Peter was just there, also. It wasn’t their room, like they were meant to be sharing. They weren’t. Peter wasn’t even sure they were supposed to even meet, had Tony not been on a mission. 

They walked down the hall, and Harley opened the door. As they walked in, the tension between them felt humongous. Peter examined the room. The bed they had been sleeping in each night, the TV they watched trashy movies on, the open suitcase holding all the clothes Harley and he had basically been sharing. 

The door shut behind Harley, and the silence that had followed from the hall felt like a stab to Peter’s heart, so he whispered, “How long have you known?”

Harley knew what he meant, and came to stand in front of Peter. Peter refused to make eye contact and stared down at his shoes. The shoes he had grown used to seeing these past few days. How had he let himself fall this hard, this fast, over someone he wasn’t even supposed to know? “I didn’t. Not really I mean. A few months ago, Tony mentioned a teenage intern during one of our phone calls, then let slip that Spider-Man was also a teenager. I kinda just… assumed? I guess, but it was more or less confirmed meeting you. You kinda give off the persona of a superhero.” 

“What the hell does that mean?” Peter mumbled. 

“You are… God, Peter. You’re just so good. You hold open doors for as many people as you can, you help old ladies cross streets. Hell, you gave up the first week of your last high school summer break just to show a random kid you didn’t even know around New York, all because Tony asked. You obviously care about people, and with the amount of stuff you’ve been through—both the stuff you’ve told me and the stuff I don’t know about but know you suffer from—you still manage to keep a smile on your face. To go out and help people, whether that’s wearing the spandex, multimillion dollar equivalent to pajamas, or just helping your neighbor with putting away groceries or babysitting free of charge.” 

Harley then reached out, grabbing Peter’s hand and laced their fingers together. This time it felt different. This time, Peter’s heart was beating less with excitement and more with tension from Harley knowing, and the hand-holding seemed less of a friendly gesture that was teetering on something more and instead that exact something more. All of the low-burning, semi-noticeable feelings that Peter has spent equal parts of the past four days dwelling on and trying his hardest to ignore seemed to congregate there, and Peter felt desperate to both rip his hand away and make that feeling spread everywhere, connect their bodies all over as he listened to Harley spew what he had been fretting over earlier in the same night. He wanted the overwhelming feelings to either envelope him or disappear completely; he couldn’t stand this almost-at-the-boiling-point, halfway feeling. Everything now was all or nothing.

“Peter.” Harley’s voice seemingly echoed through the silent, dead room. Again involuntarily, Peter’s head tipped up, and he was staring at Harley. His face was the most open Peter had ever seen it; Peter could read all of his emotions, see everything he was feeling. “You’re just so good.” 

And God, if Peter didn’t believe it after the amount of sincerity leaking off the other boy, he never would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol remember when i said that i would finish this before spider-man far from home? now im just hoping to finish this before school to be honest.   
> shoutout to the one person who commented about how harley was going to react to peter being spider-man. this is almost the same thing, just peter reacting to harley telling him he knows he is spider-man.   
> also oblivious, in-love peter? my favorite peter.


	5. day five

The night passed. 

By the time the birds outside were chirping, sun beginning to peek past the buildings and through the gaps between, Peter and Harley had been awake for the entire night. 

Once midnight came and went, the initial shock, the anger, the overwhelming, overflowing emotions, dulled down to an ache in Peter’s stomach. They sat on the edge of the bed as Peter quietly explained how he got his powers. 

“Do they know?” Harley asked the carpet, refusing to look up at Peter, which was good because Peter was refusing to look at Harley. 

“Who? Oscorp? I dunno. I killed the spider right after it bit me, so they probably found the dead thing on the floor. I dunno if they know that Spider-Man is directly related to them. If they did, I’m sure Mr. Stark covered it up enough so they wouldn’t go digging.” 

By two, they were sitting cross-legged by the window, staring out at the nonexistent stars above them. Peter spoke softly, ignoring the buzz he felt where their arms touched at their sides. “You really found out yourself? Mr. Stark didn’t tell you?” 

“Of course not. Tony cares so much about you. Once you started the internship, the real one, not the fake coverup one, he wouldn’t ever shut up about how smart you were.” Silence, then, “Guess I’m just smarter and figured it out.” 

It startled a small laugh out of Peter. Soft, weak, but still there. 

Once outside the window began to lighten the tiniest bit, Peter and Harley were laying in the bed. Neither of them were changed from the play, neither of them had showered either. They were laying there, quiet, listening to each other’s breathing as the sky changed from dark blue to light blue, fading towards orange as one bird, then two, began their chirping of the day.

“I meant it,” Harley whispered, voice laced with drowsiness, leaking with truth. “When I said you’re good, Peter. You’re so good.” 

They drifted off to the songs of birds, comforter and sheets from the bed pushed away, finding warmth in each other instead. 

Banging on the door was what caused Peter to jerk awake many, many hours later. Even if it wasn’t enough hours, Peter could tell that was the deepest sleep he’d had in a long time. Whether it was due to the emotional toll the night before seemed to put on him, or if it was just the now comforting smell of coconut, the warmth of Harley’s arms that he knew he could grow attached to easily (definitely was already attached to), or the comfort of having everything (almost everything) out in the open with them. Whatever it was, Peter didn’t dwell on it too long, otherwise he might spontaneously combust. 

He pulled himself away from Harley’s loose hug, reluctantly, and made his way to the door, feet practically dragging behind him. 

Through the peephole, he could see a dark beard, stylish cut hair, and a seemingly permanent smirk. 

He pulled the door open, loose, semi-forced, extremely drowsy smile covering his face. “Tony!” 

 

\--

 

Peter couldn’t look at Harley. He just couldn’t.

They had ten minutes left in the car ride to the compound, and Peter already avoided eye contact the entire time it took Tony to wake Harley up, get them both dressed (out of the nice clothes they were still wearing that Tony thankfully didn’t comment on) and packed from the hotel room, stand next to Tony as he checked out, get coffee and technically lunch at Starbucks, and drive an hour in traffic to where they were then. 

Ten minutes, compared to that, was nothing. 

Peter could feel Harley’s glances at he firmly kept his stare outside of the car, watching trees blur past them, causing Peter to have a slight headache. 

He wouldn’t move his eyes. 

He wanted to talk. Not the mumbles of confessions in the early hours of the morning, not silent gaps filled with electricity from their touching arms. He wanted, needed, a real talk with Harley. 

No one could know that Harley knew. 

People hated Spider-Man. He had a lot of villains. It’s one thing for these villains to know that Spider-Man’s mentor is a multi-billionaire who had the best security on him constantly as well as also being a superhero himself. It was another for a random teen to know. 

Hell, it killed Peter that May, Ned and MJ even knew. Not because he didn’t want them to, he really was glad for their constant support in his vigilante ways… But they were close. They knew him, in and out, they were with him almost daily. He could watch them closely, be near them, keep them safe to the best of his ability. 

As much as he liked to imagine the few days him and Harley shared had grown into something more, something amazing… he knew it wasn’t as close, as fleshed out as he would’ve liked.

He didn’t know if he could deal with Harley knowing. There’s something… calming about being under a mask. That he could save his own loved ones, others loved ones, without an ounce of them knowing who he was, feeling like they owed him, or that he was this amazing person. He didn’t want to think that people would treat him, Peter, differently for being Spider-Man. 

How much of Harley’s moves this week had been fueled by him knowing Peter was Spider-Man? By him knowing Peter spent his free time climbing trees to save kittens and swinging on chemically engineered webs? By him thinking of Peter as Queens superhero himself, not dorky Peter Parker from Midtown Tech? 

“Kid?” 

Peter snapped his head up, realizing that the car had made it to the compound already and parked. Harley was outside the cat already, and Tony’s door was open, but he was looking at Peter still in the backseat oddly. 

“Huh?” Intelligent, Parker. 

“We’re here. Move your bony ass, I can’t leave animals in the car in this heat.” 

Peter scrambled out, and over the car roof, Harley smiled at him. Peter just stared, feeling a bit like a deer caught in headlights for no reason other than wondering if Harley was going to expect more because he was Spider-Man. If he would expect more than what Peter, sad little Peter Parker who had nothing better to do with his summer vacation than show a random guy he didn’t know around New York, could give. 

The smile faded from Harley’s face, morphing into confusion and concern. 

God, Peter hoped he didn’t expect much. He knew from experience he didn’t usually live up to people’s expectations. 

Walking into the Compound felt like a strange adaptation of home. Not the subdued warmth and familiarity he felt walking into his apartment in Queens, and not quite like the familiar comfortability he achieved at school, or at Ned’s house. Instead, it was more of an excited buzz, a soft, quiet buzz that allowed him to silently gape at the extremely high-tech building every time he saw it. That allowed him to get choked up noises stuck in his throat whenever he walked into “his room”, which Tony kept “in case of emergency”. That allowed him to mask his genuine grin of gratitude every time Tony pulls up the file he kept on Spider-Man, with upwards a thousand web combination ideas and dozens of fully fleshed out suit plans just waiting to be made. 

Though, this time was different. Peter allowed himself to look at Harley as they took a few steps past the doors and into the main lobby of the Compound, but only because Harley said, out loud, “Holy fucking shit.” 

Peter learned to control that initial outburst after a while at least. It still felt like that every time, though. 

He trailed along silently as Tony gave Harley the grand tour. Usually Peter didn’t see too much of the Avengers, besides Tony, unless they made dramatic appearances and tried to steal Peter away from the lab and Tony to get a “childs” opinion on something or other. But, they had just been on a mission and were obviously all too tired-slash-worn out to really care this time. 

Bucky and Steve were spread across the two huge couches in the common room. Steve was reading a newspaper with a furrowed eyebrow, and Bucky was sipping coffee and staring at the blank TV. 

“Does he know it’s not on?” Harley whispered as they all looked in from one of the doorways. 

“He knows,” Bucky said without turning around, super-hearing causing Harley’s ears to turn the slightest of pink. Peter wasn’t happy to see Harley become a little embarrassed in turn, per se. Just… content. 

He was allowed to be a little salty about everything, okay? 

“Do we really have to deal with another infant running around the halls here, Stark?” Bucky then asked, and it was Peter’s turn to pinken a little. 

“I’m turning eighteen in, like, a month. I’m gonna be going to college soon,” Peter mumbled, and next to him, Tony shifted slightly on his feet. Right. It was awkward. Peter still wasn’t sure what to do about college, Spider-Man, Stark Industries, that whole crap. He and Tony still needed to talk about that, huh. 

God, Peter’s life was just full of semi-shitty things piling up. 

 

\--

 

“So, we don’t really have a room for you right now?” 

The bomb was dropped as they got to the hall with all the bedrooms. There were a lot of bedrooms in the place, but… there were also a lot of super heroes. 

“We’re working on it, but… for now, are you okay with staying in Pete’s room? He never uses it, it’s only there in case he’s ever too tired after working in the lab, or if he stays too late.” 

It sounded so fucking lame when Peter knew it was an excuse that Harley of course did not believe. 

“That’s alright with me, if Peter’s okay with it?” Harley said, and Peter just nodded jerkily. 

“I’m gonna go work in the lab. I haven’t been down for a while.” 

He didn’t wait to hear what Harley or Tony responded, and instead quickly opened the door to his room, chucked his bag inside, and scurried away. 

He went the long way towards the lab, hoping Harley or Tony didn’t follow. Once he was sure he wasn’t followed, he sidetracked, and ended up in the balcony of the training room, overlooking Natasha and Clint spar. 

He watched for a couple minutes. They were pretty evenly matched. Whatever Clint was good at, Natasha was equally good at the block for it, and vice versa on almost everything. Five minutes of nonstop fighting, which—exhausting. Peter had been there before. He’d sparred with both of them, and knew they could last hours if needed. Usually Peter didn’t so much as lose but more gave up. 

Finally, though, Natasha got one successful punch to Clint’s abdomen, and it obviously shocked Clint that she got a hit that she got the upper hand. He was laying on his back two seconds later, an elbow to his throat. He wheezed a laugh out after a second, and smacked the mat twice before she let go of the chokehold

Natasha stood, and pulled Clint with her, then spoke. “We know you’re there, Peter.” 

Peter knew that.

Peter quickly descended to their floor (meaning he used the railing to start a shimmy, then just climbed down the wall like… not normal, but Peter normal. “Hi.” 

Clint came over and threw an arm around Peter’s shoulders. He was sweaty, and smelled like shit. He probably hadn’t even showered since getting back from the mission, which… gross. 

“Missed you on the mission, this week. Stark told us you were on babysitting duty, though?” He said, flawlessly catching the water bottle Natasha tossed him without even looking. 

“Not… babysitting. Har—he’s a year older than me,” Peter said, pushing the arm off, half jokingly, half annoyedly. He had no reason to be annoyed at them, he just… was. Who knows why. 

Teenage hormones were a bitch. 

“What happened?” Natasha asked. Clint yanked him down to sit on the sparring mat, and Natasha joined them with their own water. She didn’t look sweaty at all sitting next to Clint, who honestly looked like a dumpster fire. 

Peter found himself explaining the whole Harley thing to them. The whole “having a crush on a cute boy with an even cuter accent who I’ve been hanging around nonstop for like four days, but he also knows about my secret identity which could literally get him killed and I kinda flipped out and I think I ruined it, whatever the hell it was or was going to be” thing. If there was anyone in the Compound who he trusted with everything that happened, who would also give him unbiased, real opinions and suggestions, it was Clint and Natasha. 

Actually it was just Natasha, but Clint was there and he needed it off his chest, so what can you do? 

“That’s tough stuff.” 

Peter glared at Clint. “Yeah, thanks. That really helps me a lot.” 

“Well what am I supposed to say? I don’t know anything about high school relationships. Think outside the box? Go with your instincts? Don’t fret over the small things?” Clint leaned back so he was laying on the mat. 

“Peter? Tony… said you were in here?” 

Shit. 

“Shit, is that him?” Clint darted up, looking up at the railing. Harley’s head poked out nervously. Clint just beamed. “Hello!” 

Harley awkwardly stood there, before seeing Peter fumbling to his feet. “Uh, hey. Tony told me to tell you to come to the lab.” 

“Uh, yeah, sure. I will be up there in two seconds, stay there,” Peter said, quickly darting to the door. Turns out Natasha and Clint were zero help whatsoever, so there was no point in sticking around. 

Natasha called bye in Russian as he ran out the door. 

 

\--

 

Okay. Peter needed a plan. One involving speaking actual, meaningful words to Harley, hopefully with no Avengers lurking around the corner. 

Peter had been within the Avengers presence a whole three hours and he already wanted to explode. Besides Clint and Natasha (who both disappeared after he saw them in the training room), no one else (to his knowledge) knew that Harley knew about Spider-Man. More specifically, that Peter was Spider-Man. Not even Tony. 

After two hours of unprecedented silence from both Peter and Harley, as they switched between fiddling with their own things to watching Tony, Tony kicked them out while muttering “fucking teenagers” under his breath. 

They awkwardly walked side by side towards the kitchen, where they were bound to be roped into talking about Harley and his life with one or more Avengers lying around. Peter couldn’t help but stop the flurry of thoughts rushing through his head as they walked, thinking of all the times they had been exactly like that over the past few days. It was never awkward. It was always alright, always comfortable, even with the silence. 

This… this just sucked. 

The kitchen housed an amazing mix of homemade food by a plethora of the Avengers themselves and takeout containers still half full taking up room in the fridge. Bucky was shoveling fried rice into his mouth that was most likely still cold when they walked in, and he smiled, closed-lipped. It was the most they were going to get out of him, extremely juxtaposed by Steve drinking a green smoothie and a beaming grin as he saw Harley. 

Instantaneously, they were in seats at the counter next to Bucky, and Steve was grilling Harley about anything and everything. 

(“How old are you?” “Eighteen.” “Going to school, yeah?” “MIT this fall.” “Tony went there?” “Yep, been saying I was going to go there since I’ve known him.” “How was living in Tennessee.” “Boring. Glad to be out.” “Sure it wasn’t that bad.” “No, it was that bad.” “Really?” “You’ve seemingly never been to Rose Hill.” “I haven’t. Tony said he had good memories.” “He means me. He literally broke the entire water tower of our town and had to take out his arc reactor to save a kids life, almost dying in the process.” “He what?!”) 

And so on. Peter silently watched, tiredness from the day before finally making his way to his head. His entire body have been silently aching the entire day, a mix of “for Harley” and “for sleep” it seemed, but now it was fully “for sleep”. 

Almost fully. 

He leaned his head on the palm on his hand, propped up by his elbow, as he tried to listen to the conversation. 

His head then lolled to the side, against Harley’s shoulder, and he was out at only three in the afternoon. 

 

\--

 

He dreamt of Harley carrying him to bed. And Spider-Man wearing a cowboy hat low on his face instead of a mask. 

 

\--

 

The first time he had woken up without the smell of coconut in how many days threw him for a loop for a split second, if he was being honest, before he fully understood where he was. 

In his room in the Compound, tucked into bed by someone who obviously has tucked someone in before. He doubted it was Bucky. 

His phone said it was only six, which he was surprised at. He thought for sure he would’ve slept right through dinner, which wouldn’t have been good with the whole metabolism thing. 

He pulled himself out of bed, cracking his fingers and his back as he walked lazily towards the noises in the kitchen. It was six. He needed to talk to Harley before they went to bed. He didn’t want another “staying up all night talking about everything wrong with them” again, especially because he couldn’t imagine how tired Harley was, not passing out in the middle of the day. 

He slipped into the room quietly, not drawing too much attention to himself. Bucky glanced up from across the room, and he knew Steve and Natasha at least knew he was there, probably Clint, too. He didn’t make a big deal, though, and went to grab a plate of… whatever they were having. 

Pizza, he found out, spotting the eight (eight!) pizza boxes stacked on the island counter. 

“Cheese? That’s basic.” Even though Peter had sensed him walking up as he grabbed his slices (three of them), it still made him jump as Harley talked quietly. 

“Yeah, I, uh…” Peter turned, and couldn’t really find a comeback. All of the easiness he felt with Harley, all of the calm moments and un-awkwardness he had gotten so used to faded instantly apparently. 

“Can we talk? Uh, privately?” Harley ignored the awkward response, and Peter looked at his pizza, then Tony, who was watching them curiously from the other side of the room. 

“A few minutes? Let me eat first, then… we can talk,” Peter said softly. “Did you… talk to Tony?” 

“What?” Harley turned, and as he did Tony looked away. Harley turned back. “No. I mean, that’s for you to tell. Not for me to brag to everyone.” 

“I meant…” Peter wasn’t sure what he meant. He didn’t care if Tony knew Harley knew about Spider-Man. Well, he did, but that wasn’t want he was asking. He was really asking about the past few days. Anything that happened. Their sleepovers. The hand-holding. The small smiles, laughs, and bumping shoulders. Harley tells Tony any of that, and Tony would instantly know Peter was halfway in love with the boy. Which would suck because then Peter wouldn’t hear the end of the teasing. “Uh, nevermind. Gimme like ten minutes?” 

Harley nodded, and held eye contact. Peter dropped his gaze, and swiftly walked away, sitting down at the table next to Steve with a “humph” sound. 

“You okay, kid?” Steve asked, and Peter just nodded, beginning to shovel pizza in his mouth in place of a response. 

 

\--

 

The balcony was chilly. Even though the compound was only five floors, being on the top floor still caused a breeze. That, mixed with cooling summer air as night began to peek out past the pink and yellow sunset, caused Peter to have goosebumps as he wrapped his arms around himself tighter, watching the sky around him contort from yellow to pink to blue. 

His perch on the side of the balcony railing would cause anyone nerve, despite the fact that he could stick to walls, so he wasn’t surprised when he heard Harley behind him say, “You’re gonna fall.” 

Peter turned, raising his eyebrows. “Wanna bet?” 

Harley just smiled, stepping forward. He had smartly worn a sweatshirt. It looked familiar, gray and warn with a blue and yellow… 

It was Peter’s. Harley was wearing Peter’s sweatshirt. 

“Hope you don’t mind I took it. I was kinda cold,” Harley said when he noticed Peter looking at it. 

Peter must’ve left it in his room a while ago. It was too big on Peter, which he loved, but it was only slightly oversized on Harley. 

“It. It’s fine, don’t worry,” Peter said, looking away and back to the sky. 

“It’s really pretty,” Harley said, leaning on the banister Peter was sitting on and looking out over the view of trees, the New York skyline in the distance.

Peter nodded, then said, “yeah, it is,” when he remembered Harley couldn’t see him at that angle. 

“Tony said you don’t come up to the compound a lot,” Harley said, and Peter nodded, but Harley took it as silence. “He says he tells you to come and visit more.” 

“A lotta hassle. Can’t exactly… swing here,” Peter said, and Harley looked up, seemingly surprised Peter openly acknowledged it. “What? One of us had to mention it, I guess.” 

“I’m sorry,” Harley said, straightening up. “I… I realize I kinda pressured you to have to talk to me about this. About… Spider-Man. And that was a sucky thing to do, and I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine. I mean, I’m pretty bad at keeping my secret, according to everyone who knows. You would’ve found out eventually. Or I would’ve just told you.” 

“You would’ve?” Harley said, again surprised. Peter furrowed his brow. 

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” Peter swung around so he was sitting with his legs the other way on the banister. 

“Just…” Harley stopped, and Peter reached forward involuntarily, grabbing his arm. 

“Just what?” 

“Just didn’t think this would’ve been more than a week of you showing me the city, is all.” 

Oh. He didn’t… He didn’t even want to see Peter after this. Here Peter was falling in love with the guy, and he didn’t even plan on keeping Peter’s phone number after this week. 

“Oh.” Peter straightened up. Or tried to. 

Instead, he jerked up too quickly, sending him backwards, flailing as he fell off the railing. 

Because of course. 

“Holy shit!” He heard a shout. He wasn’t sure if it was him or Harley, but either way, one of them yelled. Peter spun a little, grabbing out for the wall, and connected, slamming against the side of the building as he stuck there with only a small skid to stop. 

He opened his eyes, and saw that he was only like halfway down. He wouldn’t have died if he hit the ground, but it would’ve hurt more than the initial sting of hitting the wall so he was grateful. 

Then he started laughing. 

“Peter! Are you okay?” He heard Harley above him, but Peter couldn’t get a response out of his laughing. He just fell off the fucking Avengers compound. 

Climbing back up, he was still laughing. Climbing over the banister, he saw Harley’s horrified look, and could not stop from folding over in wheezes. 

“I...I…” He tried to speak but couldn’t stop laughing. After a second, he heard a hesitant chuckle from Harley, then a bark of laughter, then they were both cackling out of sheer shock factor. 

“Holy shit, dude. What the hell happened?” 

“Just… I’m an idiot apparently,” Peter said, still laughing. He felt the blood in his veins pumping, the tiredness still rushing through his body, and he swore he could smell Harley’s coconut. “I thought...I thought this was some cliche movie shit where we fall in love in like a week! Here I was, overthinking every little gesture, and you… You! You were on a completely different page! I’m such an idiot!” 

All of this was through laughter, and he didn’t notice at first that Harley’s abruptly stopped as he talked. Once he did, his laughter faded, and he focused on the small scratches on his hand from them skidding on the wall. They were already on their way to heal, so Peter didn’t mind them much besides a minor sting in the back of his mind. 

“What?” 

Peter shrugged then, the found confidence as he was laughing fading to leave him empty feeling. Exposed. 

“You… What?” 

Peter grimaced a bit. “You heard me, okay?” 

“You’re telling the truth? You are...were...did you…” 

“Yes. I think so, at least,” Peter whispered. It felt like admitting all the secrets he’d ever held. It really, really hurt. Maybe he should’ve hit the ground instead. At least then he wouldn’t still be alone with the boy who seemingly made and broke his heart in the span of five days. 

“You do know I am starting college soon?” Harley said, and wow, he was pulling the “I’m too old for you” shit. Peter would rather have a flat out rejection if he was honest. 

“I get it, okay? Can we just… I want to go inside.” Peter was quiet. He sounded young, sounded helpless. He was fucking Spider-Man and here he was, wrapping his arms around himself and shivering under the pink sunset. 

“I… Peter.” Harley reached out, and Peter shrunk away. His back hit the banister, and Harley’s hand cupped his chin. His hands were rough, calloused. Signs of a mechanic. He reminded Peter a lot of Tony, when he thought of it. 

“I’m cold. I want to go inside,” Peter whispered, but Harley didn’t move his hand, didn’t move his body from Peter’s path to the door inside. Didn’t even drop his gaze Peter knew he was holding. 

“Peter. I was there.” Harley’s voice, the soft one Peter got used to hearing on quiet mornings surrounded by coconut and stiff hotel sheets, the one he used with upturned lips forming an almost secretive sort of smile that he seemed to reserve for Peter and Peter only. The hand on his chin was warm, comforting, reminding him of warm rain as Harley pulled him around New York in a flurry of excitement and amazement. 

“Huh?” 

“I was there. The looks, the smiles, the hand-holding. I was there. The falling in love in a week.” 

And oh shit. 

Oh shit. 

So. Not heartbreak. 

He still felt like he was going to have a heart attack, but that was a side thought at this point. 

“Seriously?” 

He couldn’t even afford to doubt it. If Harley was joking, was about to laugh again and say “gotcha!”, Peter wouldn’t be surprised. But Peter also couldn’t help the slow, hesitant smile beginning to grow on his face, the happiness beginning to leak into his eyes as he finally looked up and made eye contact with the taller boy. 

“Yeah,” Harley whispered again. 

He felt a rush of emotions, but one thought instantly stuck out as he noticed how close they were.

“Tall.” 

“What?” Harley asked, looking a bit startled. 

“Oh shit, I said that out loud?” 

The grin was different from the soft smile. Peter liked it all the same, though, so he was happy enough anyway. His face dropped quickly, though, and he looked uncertain. Unsure. 

“I go back to Tennessee in like, three days, Pete. Then I’m at MIT, and that’s pretty far.” 

“Not far when you know someone with a private jet who is known to do what you want when you throw him some puppy dog eyes.” 

Harley continued to smile. “You mess with him a lot?” 

“Only when important,” Peter said seriously, and Harley’s grin dropped back to the soft smile. Each time his face changed even the smallest bit, Peter got butterflies in his stomach. 

“I’m important?” Harley asked. 

Peter brought a hand up to touch Harley’s, still on Peter’s chin, and smiled widely. It felt dorky, felt too intense. In any other circumstances, with anyone else, he would worry about being seen as too intense, but with Harley he didn’t even care. The little nudge of self consciousness stayed in the back of his mind, but he just continued to smile. “If you want to be.” 

After a second, Harley asked, “Still wanna go inside?” 

Peter squeezed his hand. “Nah. But I am still cold.” 

“Want your sweatshirt back?” Harley asked, and he moved to take his hand away, but Peter just gripped it tightly to keep him from moving it. 

“Nope. A hug with it on will probably suffice.” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively (as if he was suggesting other than the equivalent to stand-up cuddling). 

“I’ll do my best to meet your satisfactions,” Harley uttered, and wrapped his arms around Peter tightly, pulling him in. 

The sweatshirt smelled like himself, since it was Peter’s anyway, but he would swear on Aunt May’s grave that he could still smell whiffs of coconut in it. He knew he wouldn’t always be able to smell it, though. Harley was gonna leave soon enough, maybe before they could even pass the hugging stage and get to… something more. He would be at MIT, and Peter would again be swamped with Spider-Man, the big decision of college, and senior year itself. But for now, on the cooling summer night, the whiffs of coconut and summer air was enough to keep him sane. It was enough to make him grip Harley back, and burrow his face in his own sweatshirt on the taller boy. 

“What kind of shampoo do you use?” Peter found himself asking not a minute later. 

“What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. DONE. (with this chapter lol)  
> I AM SO SO SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY! life just got the best of me these past few weeks and with school, sports, and intense lack of passion for anything creative, i put off writing this for way too long.   
> ONE CHAPTER LEFT! its gonna be an epilogue/bridge of sorts (does that mean this will be a series? i dunnoooooo)   
> i promise, the last chapter wont take another month to publish.   
> (i hope.)


	6. days after

It was October. 

Boston was chilly, apparently, and Peter wrapped his flannel around himself tighter. He was standing backstage of the main MIT theater, and it was freezing. He was waiting with Tony for his speech he was about to give… something about his company… or Iron Man… or something else. He wasn’t exactly sure, and didn’t really care that much. 

“I didn’t know you wore… plaid,” Tony said, as a very starstruck college student adjusted the mic he had pinned on. Tony was sitting in a chair, Peter standing awkwardly next to him. 

“I don’t,” Peter said, and Tony looked up at him knowingly. 

“This a Harley thing?” He asked, and Peter flushed, staring at his shoes and not saying anything, instead just letting a small smile overtake his face. 

It’d been almost four months since Peter had seen Harley. He left a few days after their balcony confession, days they had spent lounging around the compound, almost in denial of Harley’s departure that had approached. Peter spent the days both kicking himself for wasting five days and, in the same sense, being glad it wasn’t a fast paced fling that would soon be forgotten. After Harley left, with a tearful quiet goodbye in the early hours of the morning, Peter longed for the comfort of the other boy again. 

They texted each other constantly, video chatting and calling each other almost every night they were free. It was then, in the dark safety of their bedrooms miles and miles away from each other, when Peter admitted that he applied for early action for MIT, something he hadn’t even told May, nevertheless Tony. 

Tony and Peter had since talked about Peter’s plans for the future. Peter made it clear that while he loved being Spider-Man, New York, and working under Tony, he wanted the opportunity to have a normal college life before being thrown into the training for working for Stark Industries, regardless of what role he would take up, something he wasn’t ready to consider yet. Tony was excited nevertheless, understanding the kid’s want of a normal college life. He didn’t hesitate to start pushing MIT on Peter, still unaware of Peter’s application to the school. That was the reason Peter was spending part of his fall break in Boston in the first place, being taken by Tony to “get a feel of the school” while Tony had a speech to give. 

Another benefit of coming to Boston? Harley. 

“Is he meeting us here after the speech?” Peter asked, scanning the people in the little backstage area they were in. There were a few students running around, and what looked to be a few professors trying very hard to catch Tony’s eye without being obvious. 

“Yeah, I talked to him when you were in the bathroom, he came back before going to his seats. He’s sitting with his roommate, I think.” 

“I missed him come backstage?” Peter asked, pulling out his phone. Sure enough, there was a text from Harley saying he would see him after the speech. 

Peter took Tony’s seat when he went onstage, able to see from the sidelines. It was interesting enough, Tony premiering some new invention, promising to fund some projects, yadda yadda yadda. Peter couldn’t focus, only thinking about the fact that he was in Boston, and he was minutes away from seeing Harley. Harley who he hadn’t seen since the summer, who he hadn’t gone a day without talking to for four months. All he could think about is if Harley’s hair still smells like coconut. 

Their last call, a few days ago, kept bouncing to the forefront of Peter’s mind. He wouldn’t say it was bothering him, per say, but… he could not get it out of his head. 

He had been laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, phone on the pillow next to him. He could hear some cars outside, maybe some people. But he was only focused on Harley. Only focused on the sound of his voice, his breathing, his words and pauses and enunciations. Everything he said, did, was important and noteworthy to Peter; he was just there to soak it all in. 

“Only three more days,” Harley had been saying, voice quiet as to not wake his roommate. It was almost two in the morning, and Peter had a test in the morning, and Harley had an eight a.m. lecture, but they couldn’t get off the phone. All the buzz of excitement since the week before, when Peter told Harley that Tony was taking him on his annual visit to the campus, culminating low in Peter’s abdomen, buzz of excitement and worry and anticipation all bundled together and settling in Peter’s stomach, butterflies constant every and any time he thought about Harley (but that wasn’t specific to that week; ever since that night of soft confessions on the floor of a hotel room, maybe even before that, that feeling was present any time Peter even thought about Harley). 

“I know,” Peter had whispered back, voice also quiet despite the fact that he knew May was a heavy sleeper and could probably talk at a normal volume. It felt unnatural, though, very out of place in that moment. In their moment. 

“You sound nervous,” Harley responded, and Peter couldn’t get his tongue to work. Harley was good at reading Peter, reading his voice and pauses, just like Peter was at reading Harley. Of course he was nervous. He hadn’t seen the boy in person since June. What if he changed? What if Harley would realize a relationship wasn’t worth all the effort they had put into it? Realized Peter wasn’t worth that much effort? 

“A little,” Peter said, after a second, quiet and unsure and way too raw and emotional for three syllables. 

A soft sigh, the sound of shifting sheets, and another breath on the other end of the line. “I’m really happy I get to see you again, Peter.”

Peter found himself flushing, from what he wasn’t sure. He brought a hand up to his face and cupped his own cheek, mimicking what Harley had done that night on the Compound balcony. He found himself doing that a lot, usually in private, trying to match the most romantic touch of his life. Harley’s fingers sent sparks throughout Peter’s body, though, and all he craved was that touch again.

“You know what I regret the most about that trip? Not waiting too long, spending five days pining over you only to have a confession the day Tony came back so we wouldn’t have longer than a moment alone before I had to leave?” 

“What?” Peter whispered, more of an exhale than an actual word. 

“I regret not kissing you, that night, on the balcony.” 

God, what Peter would’ve given to been in Boston right at that moment. 

But, he had to wait. And wait he did. He waited four months for that moment, what was a few more days, a few more minutes? 

Peter was snapped out of daydreams with an uproar of applause, and he joined in as Tony came towards him, off the stage. He smiled, and stood so the man could sit, but Tony just brushed the gesture off. A lady, presumably a professor or something, came up to them, shaking Tony’s hand immediately, grin on her face. 

“Thank you for making the trek out here, Mr. Stark,” She said, shooting a smile in Peter’s direction. 

“It was no issue at all, Doctor. I was planning on coming out here soon anyway, to show my intern around campus before his college applications began. This is Peter Parker, he is a senior at a private science school in Manhattan. Peter, this is Doctor Abigail Michaels, head of the engineering school.” 

Peter stuck out his hand, smiling only slightly awkwardly. “It’s so nice to meet you.” 

“You too!” She seemed genuinely nice, shaking Peter’s hand, grin still present. “Do you know what you plan to major in?” 

“I’m leaning towards biochemical engineering, or mechanical. I’m not exactly sure yet,” Peter said, and she nodded reassuringly. 

“Well that’s alright. Most of the engineering classes have the same entry level courses anyway, so whichever you decide to pick, it is generally easy to switch. I know of many students who bounce between three different majors before landing on the one they want.” 

They shared some small talk for a couple more minutes, about Tony’s speech and generous donation to fund most research projects, before she apologized for having to go to a meeting. She told Peter she hoped to see him in a lecture next year, smiling and winking, and was off. 

“She was nice,” Peter said, as Tony picked up his bag he had with him. Peter didn’t bring anything with him to the speech, except his phone, and he shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Extremely. You did well talking to her, as well. You really are no longer the shy fourteen year old kid I met, huh?” Tony said, locking his arm around Peter’s neck, making him squirm with a laugh. 

“Stop…” He groaned as Tony messed with his hair, smiling. “I just got good at small talk, I guess.” 

Tony smiled. “Well, I’m proud. You are going to do great in college, no matter where you go,” Tony was saying, and as Peter began to respond, he heard a “Tony, Peter!” 

He turned to see Harley Keener walking towards them from across the backstage. He was wearing an MIT sweatshirt, acid washed jeans, and converse that were painted multicolored. He had a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and his hair was in that pristine messy stage, looking casual yet nice. He had the biggest grin on his face, and was staring right at Peter. He looked the exact same as he had during their last video chat, about a week before, yet something about seeing him in real life made Peter’s heart skip a beat. 

“What’s up kid, did you like the lecture?” Tony asked, but Harley didn’t even respond. He stopped in front of Peter, smile dropping from the grin to his soft, genuine, secret smile. The one Peter had grown used to seeing through the screen at three in the morning during their video chats that lasted hours. The smile he donned when Peter went on rants about projects in school, unreliable lab partners, the woes of decathlon, and so on. The smile that made Peter stop and ask, “what?” softly, face flushing as Harley told Peter that he was cute when he ranted like that. 

“Hi,” was all Harley said in present time, holding eye contact and smiling that stupid amazing smile. 

“Hi,” Peter returned, own stupid sincere smile on his face, before Harley all but scooped him up into a hug. Harley’s arms were strong, and Peter burrowed his face into Harley’s neck, breathing in deep. 

He smelt of coconut, just like Peter remembered. Just like Peter dreamed. 

 

\--

 

Harley had insisted that since Peter spent days showing Harley around New York, he got to show him around Boston in return. 

“Shouldn’t you be showing me around Rose Hill then?” Peter asked, as they walked side by side out of the building. Tony had told them to go ahead, that he would catch up with them later, and was instead going to make surprise visits into lectures for the day. 

“You wanna come to Rose Hill with me?” Harley asked, humor and disbelief in his voice. 

“I want to meet your mom and sister,” Peter said, defiant. Harley’s sister, Abby, had hijacked one or two of their video chats, and eventually stole Peter’s number from Harley’s phone, sending Peter memes semi-regularly. She was funny, like a girl Harley, and strong and confident. Harley told Peter once that Abby had punched a kid in her class freshman year because they had been talking bad about a disabled girl. Peter liked Abby. He didn’t know much about Harley’s mom, never having spoken to her, but Harley always smiles when he talks about her, talking about how much she sacrificed to help Harley and Abby when their dad left, which reminded Peter so much of May he figured he would have to like her. 

Harley looked at him for a second, analyzing, before the soft grin came back. He grabbed Peter’s hand, intertwining their fingers, looking down at the hands as if suddenly shy. “I would love for you to come to Rose Hill with me sometime, sweetheart.” 

Another thing Harley had started over the four month period: calling Peter nicknames. Pet names. Names given to significant others, given to those in a romantic relationship. Sweetheart was a go-to, one Peter was mostly good with hearing, but the more uncommon ones, like darlin’ and my love… those made Peter’s heart melt. If Harley called him “my love”, in person, in public? He would be a goner. (He already kind of was.)

They walked to a student quad, hands gripping as if they were scared to let go, scared they would have to go another four months again. Peter could feel Harley’s heartbeat was intense, but he knew he was the same way, so he didn’t focus on it. Harley teased Peter about the flannel, and Peter teased Harley about sending it to him. Harley said it suited Peter, wearing his clothes, and Peter almost had a heart attack right there on the Boston sidewalk. 

They found a quiet area and sat on a bench, under an orange and red tree. Peter took a few pictures of the quad for his Instagram, posting one to his story almost instantly to show he was in Boston, all one handed as he refused to drop Harley’s hand.

They stayed quiet for a couple minutes, and Peter examined their hands. They fit together perfectly, now resting in Peter’s lap. Harley had on red chipped nail polish, and Peter remembered when Harley put it on a few weeks ago when he was bored on their chat. That was the day Peter got to meet Harley’s roommate, who was very nice. Peter heard him whisper, “he’s cute” when he had left view of the screen, and judging by Harley’s glance up at Peter and flush that even Peter could see through the screen, Harley knew Peter could hear. 

“I missed you,” Harley said suddenly, breaking the moments of silence. Peter had been watching a group walk across the lawn, but he let his head turn to Harley, eyes widening. “Like, a lot. So much. I didn’t know that I could miss someone I only knew for eight days this much.” 

Peter smiled, and Harley squeezed his hand. 

“I didn’t tell you this, but I cried when I got back to Tennessee. At first I thought it was because of leaving New York, having to be back in Tennessee, but even when I came here I still felt like there was a piece of me missing. It sounds cliche and weird, but...it was like I had left something in New York that week, something I never got back, and I didn’t know what it was, or I just didn’t let myself fully think about it? I don’t know. But when I saw you, backstage, I… It was the same feeling I get every time I see your profile pop up on skype, the same feeling I got when you asked for a hug on the balcony. I…” 

Harley paused, and Peter’s eyes were wide, caring, emotions flying across his face openly, vulnerably. He almost felt tears, he was feeling so many things at once. Harley’s hand, the free one, came up and rested on Peter’s cheek, as if it belonged there, as if it was returning home. Home to listening to baseball plays, to eating pizza on street corners, to watching romcoms into the early hours of the morning and baking shows in the middle of the afternoon. To pencil drawings and soft t-shirts yet softer words, and the smell of coconut shampoo. 

“I love you,” Harley whispered, the country accent thick and piercing straight through Peter’s heart, and nothing in the world could’ve stopped Peter from leaning up and kissing Harley in that moment. Absolutely nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quarantine made me so bored i decided oh fuck it guess i will finish empire state of mind, huh? only eight months late?   
> alternate titles to this entire work: country boy i love you, or coconut shampoo

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally following my exact vacation I just took with my family to New York. not exactly, because surprisingly enough my vacation didn't also consist of secret superheroes and awkwardly adorable teenage boys, but the days are mapped out exactly like my vacation was. My vacation just consisted a lot more fighting between family members.


End file.
